Heart Out
by midnightweeds
Summary: Hermione becomes entangled in Tom's criminal underworld. / / Graphic, AU Tomione
1. intro

**HEART OUT**

DKM

* * *

 **4 January 2015**

"Oh. You're back," Bellatrix dumped her purse and coat on an armchair. "I thought you all weren't coming back until the 20th? Did you not enjoy the Alps?" Rummaging through the fridge, she said, "Granger. Did you hear me?"

"Yeah," she leaned forward, eyes glued to the television.

"Good. I enjoyed it when we went a few years ago," she said nonchalantly, obviously trying to upset her. "Where is Tom?"

Grabbing a handful of chocolate chips, she tossed her hair over the back of the couch as she looked over at the black-haired woman.

For a moment, Hermione thought how envious she'd been upon meeting her, of her beauty and confidence and freedom. She considered telling her that Tom hadn't seen any of it, not really, but couldn't find any satisfaction in it. Instead, she looked back at the television. "He's dead."

Glass shattered in the kitchen.

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** These characters belong to JK Rowling. I mean no copyright infringement. **\- - -** The title of this story was inspired by The 1975's song _Heart Out_ from the album **The 1975** _._

 **Warnings:** Drug usage. Blood play. Graphic murder. Mention of rape. Strong suggestive language. Multiple lemons that include choking, drug usage, and D/s play.

 **A/N** : If this seems familiar to you, _Heart Out_ is non-magical, modern-day AU, from a prompt given to me last year for the Tomione Kink Meme Christmas Challenge. Honestly, Christmas just _happens_ to be in the story, but I didn't get to properly edit the Christmas story I wanted to post this year, so I did this one instead. There are about five parts, so hopefully you can enjoy it (:


	2. part one

_**PART ONE**_

I / _**29 November 2012**_

"This is stupid," Hermione murmured, mostly to herself.

Tom paused, looking over his shoulder at her. "Do you always think so much?"

She didn't understand the question, and told him so. He laughed, pulling keys out of his pocket. The lights of a matte black Range Rover flashed, and she considered just how fucked she really was.

"Get in," he demanded, pulling the back passenger door open.

Hermione looked up to see that he was smirking, humor reflecting in his eyes brightly. "I'm not sure I should."

He licked his lips, nodding as his phone chirped in his pocket. "We're just going to talk, Hermione."

"About what?

"Get in, I'll tell you."

She frowned, watching as he leaned against the car seat. He reached into the trunk and pulled out two bottles of Fiji, offering her one. "Come on, Granger. Sober up. I need you level headed for this."

"For _what_? I'm not _helping_ you with anything." She fidgeted, running her fingers through her hair, and added, " _Illegal_ ," in an equally snotty tone. "Besides, I don't even know who you are."

"You don't know who I am?" He asked, smirking. He took a sip of his water. "I'm Tom Riddle, love. And you're Hermione Granger. You got put out of law school for outing your celebrity-professor as a serial rapist-"

"That's confidential," she told him quickly. "You have no right bringing that up." Swallowing, she added bitterly, "And I didn't get put out. I left voluntarily. I'm not going to _work_ for a filthy, low-life, lying _rapist_."

"Why didn't you kill him?"

"Excuse me, Tom _Riddle_? I believe that's _your_ department."

"I like the way you do that," he laughed, pulling his phone out of his pocket as it rang. He looked at it long enough to decline the call, and then tossed his iPhone into the front seat.

"You like the way I do what?" She asked, brushing a piece of straightened hair away from her face.

"Make everyone feel as though they're beneath you."

She rolled her eyes, "I don't think you're beneath me."

He smiled, and it was completely unfair, because she hadn't been prepared for it. "That's lovely, Granger, because I do prefer to have a bit more control."

"You're disgusting."

"Of course, we do have to get creative in my truck-"

"Right," she turned to leave. "Have a good evening, Tom Riddle."

"Granger! Wait." She heard the car door close, the echo of his shoes against the parking lot pavement. He touched her elbow once he was close enough, causing her to stop. "I can't let you leave drunk. Have the water. Let me call you a cab."

She didn't tell him that she wasn't drunk, that she _couldn't_ be, because she didn't drink. That would have given her away as curious. "What do you want to talk about, Riddle? I'm not going to talk about what happened at Cambridge. You and I have nothing in common, yet you've activity sought me out and know my history."

"We have a little in common," he suggested, still offering her the water.

She took it, twisted the cap off, and offered it to him. He sipped it a few times before handing it back, smiling smugly at her.

"We both made our first kill at 15."

II / _**1 December 2012**_

Tom leaned in, sweat and sandalwood clinging to his skin, the sweet cloves of his cigarettes on his breath. Hermione found that she wasn't turned off by it. Not the way she had been a few days ago, when the only thing she knew about him was that he hung out –from time to time, at least- at the gas station near her house. Instead, she found herself looking up at him, stupidly, between her lashes, her bottom lip tugging between her teeth for the briefest of moments.

She ran her hand through her curls when she realized what she was doing.

He chuckled.

"Riddle," she started, but there wasn't anything else left for her to say. She felt herself caving.

"It's okay, Granger," he said, loud enough for her to hear over the club music, but low enough to keep it between the two of them. For some reason, it was the most reassuring thing she'd ever heard, and it was hilarious.

All of it, really: the fact that her life had completely derailed in just a few days; that she'd found solace in a common criminal; and, insanely, she was seriously considering his offer.

She groaned, again tugging her hand through her curls.

Tom reached up and touched one, twisting it around his finger with a disgusting amount of care. "These suit you, love."

"I'm not a murderer, Tom. I killed….I killed someone, but I'm not a killer. I'm not a murderer."

He exhaled, and she took a deep, embarrassing breath in. Smiling –she _cursed,_ out loud, and he laughed as he let go of her curl, fingers brushing from her temple to her jaw-, he told her, "You look beautiful."

It was all she'd needed.

III / **5 December 2012**

Hermione walked in to see Tom sitting in an armchair, a girl on his lap. She froze, her throat feeling as though it were swelling, pressure forcing it out of her mouth. She coughed, but it was masked by the sound of someone calling, "Tommy boy! Your girl is here."

He pushed her shoulders, glazed eyes meeting hers blankly before recognition filled them. She noticed that they were both high, both still smoking, both dark and beautiful and _way_ out of her league. But, Hermione resisted bolting, a small but reassuring confidence filling her suddenly.

A slow, sickening smile pulled over the other woman's features, " _You're_ Hermione," she purred, pushing off Tom and standing, "I'm Bellatrix."

Someone behind them made a cat-like sound.

Bellatrix was barefoot, a lovely 6 foot something, with a black satin skirt pulling over her hips and dark eyes under heavy lids. Even wasted, she seemed incredibly aware of herself, and her power, tugging thin fingers through heavy, black curls. Diamonds sparkled in her ears.

"She's harmless," a blond told her, but she recognized it as a lie. "I'm Abraxas."

"Hermione Granger."

He tugged her elbow, pulling her over to the corner bar, "I know who you are." From the corner of her eye, she saw Bellatrix sit back down in Tom's lap, his arm drawing around her waist as their eyes followed her. "What's your poison?"

"I don't drink."

He froze, tilting his head. After a moment, he laughed. "Charming."

"Really, don't bother, Abraxas," she told him, watching him set two glasses on the bar top.

"It's Christmas, Granger!" He told her, half filling one of the tumblers with vodka.

"Hardly," she laughed him, glancing over her shoulder to see that Bellatrix was talking about something or another to Tom, her index finger drawing circles over his open palm. But, he was watching her, eyes steady and heavy.

Despite herself, she offered him a smile, her dark red lips pulling slowly over her teeth as her eyelashes brushed her check. He smirked, winking at her as he trapped Bellatrix's hand in his own. She turned away before he kissed it.

"Sure, Abraxas. Just one, I suppose."

He grinned, grey eyes sparkling as he picked up the crystal top of an ice bucket. "An assassin then, for our future Mrs. Riddle."

She swallowed, running a hand through her curls. Honestly, she should have questioned it. She'd wanted to. But, when she opened her mouth, all that came out was, "What's an assassin?"

Abraxas laughed.

IV / _**8 December 2012**_

" _You've_ killed someone?" Bellatrix set her drink down on the table, black eyes on Hermione as though she was hunting. There was humor in her voice that the softer woman didn't like, and a dark, cruel look in her eyes that rubbed her wrong as well.

"Bella," Atticus Lestrange warned, drawing his arm over Hermione's shoulders. He smiled when she looked up at him, squeezing her arm comfortingly he said, "Don't worry, Grange. I've got your back."

"Oh, get a room. Geez," Bellatrix complained, glancing to her right to make sure Tom was paying attention. He was; glossy eyes focused sharply upon them. There was nothing in them, though. It was as though he felt absolutely nothing toward any of them.

Lestrange laughed, letting go of Hermione and knocking back another shot of vodka. "I'm going to be honest, Grange. I can't do this sober."

"Do what?"

"She's not going with you all," Tom told them, waiving the waitress over. He ordered everyone another round of drinks, as Bellatrix said, "Obviously not. I don't know why you brought her on, Tom. _Really-_ "

Hermione picked up her steak knife, her creamy fingers wrapping slowly around the blackened handle. She felt Tom's eyes on her again, a small smirk on his face. Lestrange knocked back another shot.

"She's pretty, I'll give you that," Bellatrix continued on, and Hermione _almost_ stopped- because this was _Bellatrix Black_ , the only woman she'd ever been self-conscious around, considered her pretty. And it was stupid really, it was just that she was beautiful and bold and so intelligent that it usually physically hurt to look at her; and Tom allowed her to be so underneath him, when Hermione had thought that she'd had a _chance,_ which was even _stupider_.

But, she suddenly had a lot to prove.

"-and that doesn't mean you can bring in just any old-"

She tossed the knife the same way she'd seen Ron do it, and it was as though everything stopped for a moment. The blade nicked Bellatrix's neck before sticking in the cushion behind her. Lestrange howled in excitement as he slammed another glass onto the table.

"Are you sure she can't come tonight?" He asked, looking between all of them, his smile growing larger by the moment. "Hermione, you should come. Just to watch, you know?"

"She's staying. We ordered dinner," Tom told them, getting up from the booth. "You two are late though, so go."

"She just tried to kill me, Tom," Bellatrix cried, fingers brushing the blood in disbelief.

"If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead."

Lestrange hooted with delight, and Tom suppressed a chuckle, tapping the table as he said, "Take it out on your assignment, Bella, love. Out, now."

She whined as she got up, pouting at Tom sweetly enough that he kissed her forehead soothingly. "Have fun, okay?"

"Will you be home when I get there?" She asked, loud enough for Hermione to hear.

Tom smirked, eyes meeting hers over Bellatrix's head. "Maybe."

"Maybe," she repeated, turning to look at Hermione. She ran her tongue over her lips, the blood slipping down her neck and soaking into the collar of her sweater.

"Bella, baby," Lestrange got up, drawing his arm over her shoulders as he pulled her away.

Tom sat back down, puling the knife from the cushion before picking at what was left of the appetizers. She watched as they left, frowning when Lestrange leaned in and sucked the blood from Bellatrix's neck. Her squeal of delight seemed to echo in Hermione's ears well after they left.

"I should go- it's late."

"We're having dinner, Granger. I ordered your favorite."

She frowned, wanting to ask what her favorite even was, but he smiled, and she was still weak.

"Come on. It's Christmas." He was still smiling.

She smiled too, looking down at her hands for a moment. " _Barely_ , Tom!"

"You're my only friend."

She laughed, looking up at him. "Right. I forgot."

"So, you'll stay?"

Before she could answer, the waitress set a plate of lobster ravioli in front of her. It looked nearly as good as her mothers, and it hadn't been on the menu. It wasn't even in season. Laughing, she looked up at him.

"Could I try one?" He asked, already leaning over his food to take some.

"What do you want from me?"

The waitress refreshed their drinks.

"Do you have any plans for the tenth?"

"No. Why?"

He took another one of her ravioli. "I want to go to Mexico for a few days. In a week or so."

"What does that have to do with Tuesday?"

"Oh," he rested an elbow on the table, propping his face in his hand as he watched her eat. "I need a favor in Italy."

V/ _**23 December 2012**_

"Granger!" Abraxas greeted, pounding his fist on top of the Benz before walking over to her. "Look at you. All brown!" He wrapped his arm over her shoulders, shaking her as Tom got out of his Range Rover. "How was Mexico?"

"It was nice."

"Nice," he grinned, nodding his head as grandly, silently instigating. "When do you leave for Thailand?"

"You're going with him again?" Bellatrix asked, somehow managing to make it sound genuinely horrible.

"Yeah," she murmured, passing a hand over her braided her. "We leave on Boxing Day."

"They're taking a romantic, winter holiday," the blond teased, squeezing her shoulder.

Tom simply grinned, neither confirming of denying his friend's ridiculous statement. She squirmed uncomfortably, really wanting to say something, but the rage that filtered through Bellatrix's eyes felt like a soothing balm.

As Abraxas let her go, Riddle brushed her jaw with his thumb, lips puckering as he smirked, before walking over to Bellatrix, who was waiting patiently by the car.

"Was he that charming the whole trip?"

"A smidge less," she replied. "I brought you back something."

He accepted the candy with a handsome smile. "My wife is going to kill me."

"You're married?"

He unwrapped the lollipop, observing the scorpion inside before sticking it in his mouth and pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Two kids, too."

"How _old_ are you?"

He smiled, "I like the way you do that, Granger."

She rolled her eyes.

"I'm 27. How old are you?"

She blinked, disbelieving, looking over at Tom and Bellatrix. "Them too?"

"Tom'll turn 28 while you all are in Thailand-"

"What an asshole. He didn't even tell me."

Abraxas grinned. "He doesn't care to admit his mortality, Granger."

She'd noticed.

"Bella will be 29 next year, I think." He continued, unlocking his phone and showed her his children. "Apollina turned 3 in August, Nissim will be 1 on 7 January. Loves of my life, I'll tell you." He looked up from his phone, grinning, "After you, of course."

"You two love birds ready, or what?" Bellatrix called, arm slinking around Tom's waist as her eyes locked with Hermione's.

"It's actually you and I tonight, Bella," Tom spoke up, shaking out of her hold and walking over to she and Abraxas.

"What?" Bellatrix asked, unashamed of her obvious joy. She glanced at Tom's truck as though it was something incredible.

Hermione would have been lying if she didn't admit to the pulse of pleasure she got when Tom pushed his keys into her hand and Bellatrix looked as though someone had stolen something from her. There had almost been nothing better in the world before that moment.

Abraxas handed over his car keys, seeming almost excited by what was happening. "Case in the car?" He questioned.

Before Tom could answer, Bellatrix brushed a hand against Hermione's scarf, thumb skimming the cashmere before saying, "Lovely. Did your boyfriend give them to you?"

Saying yes would have been easier, because the last thing Bellatrix would ever suggest was that Tom was anyone boyfriend. But, she was already on a roll tonight.

Hermione touched the Burberry affectionately, purposely using the hand holding Tom's car key. "It's not mine, actually. Just borrowing."

Bellatrix turned to leave without another word, and Tom smirked as Abraxas laughed heartily. "The two of you are miserable, you know?"

"Isn't she married to Atticus?" She asked.

"Engaged to his brother, actually. There are a few Lestrange boys," Abraxas told her.

As she frowned disgustingly, they laughed. "Case is in the car. Give me a minute with Granger, Malfoy."

"Yeah. Drive safe," the blond said as he turned and walked away.

Tom offered her a handsome smile, taking a step closer. "You'll come over later?"

"Maybe," she smiled.

He brushed a knuckle over the curve of her cheek. "Maybe?"

Bellatrix honked the horn, and Hermione laughed. "I hear your little pet gets a bit frisky when you take her out to play."

The look of surprise the flickered across his face, so dull and understated, caused her to smile. They tugged a hand through their curls at the same time. Bellatrix pressed the horn again.

"You should wear my clothes more often, Miss Granger."

She refolded his scarf around her neck before shoving her hands into her jacket pockets. "Why's that?"

He shrugged, smirking. Leaning in, Hermione kissed him hard, startling even herself with the behavior. As she pulled away from him, a small smirk formed on her lips. "I'll see you at your place," she told him, kissing the tips of her fingers and waving toward the Benz before she walked away.

As the got into Tom's Rover, Abraxas shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. "You're playing with fire, you know?"

"Feels good," she told him, waiting for the other couple to pull off.

He hummed in acknowledgment. After a few minutes, he asked, "Granger, have you ever killed a man?"

"A few," she murmured, pulling onto the highway. "Don't tell Tom, though. He thinks my body count is three."

He laughed. "He really hasn't let you kill anyone?"

"I took care of someone a few weeks ago. Why?"

Humming, he looked through the file Tom left him. "By yourself?"

"I prefer to work alone. It's cleaner."

"That's why you aren't with Bella, then. Well, that and the fact that she'll kill you the first chance she gets.

"Say, what'd you do in Mexico, then? I thought he took you so you could get some practice?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Why else would he take you with him? He went there to take care of Fudge."

"He told you that?"

"Yeah."

Smiling, she propped her elbow against the door, biting her knuckle for a moment. "Fudge has been dead in Italy for the last two weeks."

"You're fucking kidding me."

"No."

"How do you know?"

She glanced at him, a slight frown on her face. Shrugging, she refocused on the road. "Tom likes to talk in the morning."

"Huh," he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So. What'd you do?"

"Nothing. We just holidayed."

He was quiet for a long time. They'd nearly reached their destination when he asked, "You really don't want me to tell him you've killed a few people?"

"The less Tom knows about me, the better."

Abraxas offered a sad laugh, as though he knew exactly what she meant. When they were nearly there, he said, "Don't tell Tommy-boy about my kids and we have a deal."

Hermione looked over at him, half-confused by the fact that Tom didn't know about his children, and half in awe. "You have my word, Abraxas."

VI/ _**25 December 2012**_

She drew her fingers over his stomach, tugging at his happy trail before poking at a prominent vein. "Happy Christmas, Mr. Riddle," she murmured, offering him a pretty smile.

He brushed a hand over her hair, his thumb smoothing over her cheek. "I bought you a gift."

She blushed, laying her head on his stomach as her face heated. There was no _real_ reason for her embarrassment. But, she was a little drunk from the scotch, and a little tired from the night before, so it was easy.

He laughed, and the sound was so light that she wasn't sure if it was real. She hadn't expected him to be so gentle. "What?"

"I didn't think I'd be here so long. Yours is at my house."

He brushed her hair again, causing her to look back up at him. "You got me a gift?"

She frowned, "It's Christmas, isn't it?"

"I didn't realize you cared."

Hermione froze, her entire body going so rigid she almost feared that she'd snap in two. After a few seconds, he smirked at her, a playful look forming in his eyes as he smirked. She wondered, briefly, if he was high. But his eyes were as clear as they were dark, reflecting light as day shined through his window.

"You have a nice home," she told him quietly, attempting to distract herself.

His smirk turned into a smile, the corners of his eyes creasing charmingly. Tom licked his lips, but his smile didn't fall. "Move in," he suggested, leaning over to grab something from his bedside table.

" _Really_ , Tom," Hermione half complained, sitting up. "You know-"

"I know, Hermione," he told her, sitting up and propping himself against the headboard. He turned the box over in his hands a few times. She recognized it as a book instantly, and felt her heart speed up. "Just a suggestion. You know. In case," he passed her the gift, prompting her to open it.

She ripped the emerald colored paper off to discover that it wasn't a book, but a jewelry box. Glancing at him, he smiled encouragingly. There was a necklace lying within; a circle of diamond that sparkled beautifully as a tremor shook her hands. "Tom."

"It's nothing really," he sat up, pulling the jewels from the box and placing them around her neck. They fit almost tightly against her, more like a collar than a necklace, the lowest diamond resting surely against the soft spot between her collarbones.

He relaxed again, admiring them as he leaned against his headboard. "An old family heirloom. Really. I couldn't imagine anyone else in them."

"We barely met a month ago," she reminded him.

He hummed, far from interested. "Seems like much longer," he told her casually.

She couldn't deny that it. Somehow, it seemed as though they'd known each other forever. Swallowing, she drew her bottom lip into her mouth for a barely a second before remember something he'd told her about his childhood. Frowning, she said, "Tom! You're an orphan. What the hell do you mean, 'old family heirloom?'"

He laughed. "You got me, Hermione. So, it's a new one. No problem. We could pass it on to our kids."

"We aren't having children. We aren't even _dating_."

He watched her critically, a curious light in his eyes. "Okay," he murmured, reaching for her hand. "Most people just say thank you."

"Thank you," she told him sincerely, fingers smoothing over the diamonds around her neck. They were too much, though –too cool, too heavy, too personal-, and there was too much pleasure in his eyes as he looked at her.

"You're welcome," he opened an arm to her, and after a moment's hesitation, she curled into the free space next to him, happy for his warmth. "Just don't tell Bella they're from me. She'll kill you."

He laughed, but it wasn't a joke.


	3. part two

**Warnings;** Graphic Murder, Sex, Drug Usage

* * *

 **PART TWO**

VII / _**1 February 2013**_

"You want to ride with me?"

Hermione looked up from her book, glancing at the time before tossing Tolstoy to the side. "We'll be back before 7, right?"

"Why? Hot date?"

"Yeah. Me, Bella, and a couple of dead bodies."

Abraxas passed her, her jacket, laughing as he shrugged into his. "She isn't as bad as we make her out to be, promise."

She followed him out of the flat and to a black G-Wagon. "I'm sure she isn't. Tom wouldn't keep her around if she was."

"You know him that well?" The blond asked, quickly followed by, "Do you want to drive?"

"I don't even know where we're going."

"Right," he slid into the drivers seat. "I'm supposed to be teaching you, but I haven't done too good of a job of it."

"You taught me how to make an Assassin."

He laughed, pulling off and starting toward the highway. "Right. Well. In all seriousness, Tom doesn't deal drugs –none of the people you've meet so far do-, but we have people that push."

"What kind of drugs?"

"Whatever is popular. Weed and coke are almost always around. Speed, meth, acid…a lot of people like to party, these days. We're all too fucking old, but why not make money off of it, you know?"

"I'm not old."

"What?"

"I'm 22."

He slammed on the brakes, causing her to scream. Fortunately, no one was around. "You're fucking 22, Granger?"

She picked at her nail, motioning for him to start driving again. He did. "Yeah."

"God. You're a baby-"

"I'm _not_ a baby."

"God," he tugged a hand through his hair. "Fuck. What are doing here? You should be…god, Hermione. You shouldn't be here. I should drop you off at an airport of something. You're wasting your life."

"You're here-"

"Yeah, but I…I didn't have another option."

"That isn't true. Tom told me you're working on your PhD –in math, of all things. And you studied economics-"

"What'd you do? Have him read you our files?"

She laughed. "No. Its…pillow talk, I guess."

"Fucking weird. The both you. You're made for each other."

She relaxed into the warm leather, watching as he scrolled through his iPhone for something. "No, we aren't…it isn't like that."

"He really likes you, you know?"

"I don't think about Tom when he isn't around, Brax. So I wouldn't know, and I'd rather not talk abut it."

He nodded understandingly. "I really think you should go back to school."

"I think you should tell me more about this drug thing. Are we about to pick some up?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Why? Do you need something? I've got some coke under the back seat."

"I don't do drugs."

He laughed until he realized that she was serious. "God, Hermione. Why the fuck are you hanging out with any of us?"

"I like you guys."

"You mean you like Tom."

"I like you all, too! I wouldn't be hanging out with you right now, if I didn't."

"So you admit, you like Tom?"

"You're real childish for 27, you know?"

"You keep me young."

She laughed. After a few minutes she said, "Yeah. I like Tom. But, it doesn't mean anything. Tom likes girls. He likes Bellatrix. I'm just…you know…around right now."

"That's not true, Granger. You wouldn't have gone to fucking Mexico and Thailand with him for no reason if he didn't care for you-"

"Okay, so the sex is good-"

"He damn sure wouldn't have let you go out on your own for your first time, and you _wouldn't_ be driving his truck around, either. It's his baby." He laughed to himself. "I'll bet he's even taken you to his house."

"Well, he damn sure isn't hanging out in _mine_."

"Listen, Granger. We don't even know where this dude lives, and I've known him since form 5. It's a big deal."

"Shut up, Abraxas."

"I'll bet that you all will even hangout for Valentine's Day. He won't ask you out, but he'll invite you over for something stupid, because he has absolutely no idea what he's doing with you, I'm sure."

"Shut _up_ , Abraxas. Geez."

He pulled up in front of a restaurant, laughing. "I'll be right back, okay?"

It was Tom that came out five minutes later, eyes curious. He got in on the driver's side and turned his seat warmer on. "Long time no see," he told her, a small smile on his lips.

"It's barely been a week."

He hummed thoughtfully, reaching over and grazing her bottom lip with his thumb. "You didn't miss me?"

Hermione squirmed in her seat, covering it up by turned toward him, pulling her legs beneath her as she faced him. In truth, she'd missed parts of him quite a bit, but didn't care to admit it. She smiled prettily at him. "No."

"I missed you," he told him, his voice low even in the stillness of the car. She cussed under her breath, feeling his words pull at core. "Your mouth, mostly."

Her eyes followed his hand, lip tugging between her teeth as he cupped himself, quickly and carefully, only long enough to draw her attention away from any and everything but him. She swallowed.

"You shouldn't get into anyone's truck but mine," he told her casually.

"What?"

"Also, you're going to head out with Rookwood, instead of Bellatrix. You remember him, right?"

She swallowed, shaking her head in attempt to clear it. "Yeah."

"Alright. I've got someone bringing a car for you. You'll meet Rookwood there…it's closer to my house than it is to yours. I won't be home for a few days, but you could stay over, if you wanted to."

She chewed her lips for a moment, rocking against the backs of her heels.

He smiled, obviously aware of her growing needs. "I have to go. There is some business in Dublin I need to take care of. Greengrass should be here soon- come in and eat something."

"Tom. Are you seeing anyone else?"

He frowned. "Pardon?"

She licked her lips. "You know…are you sleeping with anyone else? Since we've been hanging out, I mean."

"Not since Christmas. Are you?"

"I have a boyfriend."

He just stared at her, almost as though he were still waiting on her to reply. A red Infiniti pulled up in front of them. Greengrass hopped out, tapping on Tom's window and passing him the key. He smiled politely at her and she asked, "You got a new piercing right?"

He blinked in shock thumb grazing the bar between his eyes. "Yeah. About a week a-"

"Yeah, Malfoy is waiting inside, Remington," Tom rolled up the glass as the blond turned away. He passed her the keys to the Infiniti. "Case is in the glove compartment," he told her as he got out of the car. He walked over and opened her door, barely giving her enough room to get out with his closeness. "You're hilarious, you know?"

She looked up at him through her lashes, skin tingling from the lowness of his voice. "I don't remember telling any jokes."

Tom slammed the door, gripping her arm and pulling her into the restaurant. The only people she recognized were Greengrass and Abraxas, before he dragged her up a nearby staircase. He kissed her hard, bruising her mouth as his hands gripped at her bum.

She pushed him gently and he took the smallest of steps back, heat seeming to radiate from him. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"I thought you said you belonged to me?"

Hermione attempted to remember when she would have possibly said anything like that, and what she came up with caused her to laugh. "I wanted to come, Tom. I would have said anything."

"I see," he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against hers.

When she didn't object again, he kissed her harder, arm hooking around her waist as he carried her into the bathroom. He let her down in front of the sink, forcing her to face the mirror. His fingers brushed her stomach as he unbuttoned her jeans, pulling them just low enough. As he unzipped his fly, he wrapped her hair around his fist until his thumb rested on the base of her neck, a smirk playing on his lips as her breath hiked.

"Did you lock the door?"

"No." He touched her, fingers gentle as they pressed her lips apart. She hadn't realized how turned on she'd been. "Do you find Abraxas attractive, Granger?"

She jerked, attempting to pull away from him, but he used the fist in her hair to tug her head back, forcing her still. "You sure know how to ruin a moment, Riddle. _Geez_."

He kissed her ear, dipping into her with a careful circle of his fingers. "Answer the question, Granger."

"No."

Tom pulled his fingers from her, laughing at her groan of frustration as he pushed them into her mouth. "So," he murmured, rubbing his cock against her center, "all of this happened in the last few minutes?"

Her hips were shaking against him, needy but gentle in her desperation, as she said, " _Yes_ , Tom."

He pulled her head back further, forcing her body to arch as he continued to rub himself against her. "Open your eyes."

She hadn't realized she'd closed them.

Smiling at her in the mirror, his eyes glinted. "All of this is mine, then?"

"Tom, _please_."

"Say it, love-"

" _Please_ don't call me love."

"Say it," he demanded, the head of his cock pressing into her.

Her mind blanked. "Oh _god_ , Tom. It's all for you. It's all yours. _Please_ , just-"

He turned her around, forcing her to her knees as his fingers pressed into her mouth, forcing her tongue out as his fingertips hooked in the back of her throat. His eyes shined darkly, a smirk playing on his lips as he said, "Tell me who you belong to, Granger."

She didn't have any other option, not from where she was kneeling. And that was all right. Moaning, she made sure their eyes were on each other as she at least attempted to say, "You."

It was hard with her mouth still full of his fingers.

Tom smiled handsomely, the hand in her hair seeming to tighten, her heart fluttering and aching in her chest. "What was that?" He pulled his fingers from her mouth, and lifted his cock to her lips. His grip tightened on her hair, keeping her carefully in place.

She trembled. "You, Tom." He exhaled loudly, eyes sparking and fist trembling at her neck. Before opening her mouth again, she made sure she had his full attention and said, "I belong to you."

"I know, Hermione." He pushed her forward. "Touch yourself," he breathed, pressing himself to the back of her throat and holding her against him firmly.

As her eyes fell closed, he tapped her cheek lightly, but firmly. "Keep your eyes on me. Good girl." He caressed her cheek, pulling out of her mouth enough for her to breath before thoroughly fucking her throat. "Don't come."

She groaned, and so did he, pulling out of her mouth and pulling her up from the ground.

"Turn around," he demanded. He wrapped his arm around her waist, easing into her as he tugged her head back to his shoulder. "Watch me," he murmured into her neck. "Watch us, Hermione."

Tom kissed her neck as their eyes met in the mirror, his fingers grazing her clit thoughtlessly. He circled back, thumb pressuring her needy core, as he said, "I will tell you when you can come."

She whined, feeling herself already shaking and clenching against him. He hissed, pressing himself firmly into her, and she felt him empty into her before he fell still, his fist untangling from her hair and arm leaving her waist.

After a few minutes, he pulled out of her, helping her to redress as she continued to shake helplessly against him. "You alright?" He asked, his fingers gentle against her face as he observed her.

Hermione found that she actually wanted to hit him. "I could kill you."

He smirked, "I don't doubt that."

"Really, Tom, I-"

"I had this really fucked up idea, Granger. To tell you that you could only come if you used tonight's client to do so," he chuckled at her widening eyes, brushing her hair away from her face. "But, the thought of you spending the rest of the day with my seed-"

" _God,_ Tom. Shut _up_."

"-leaking from your core," he hummed contently, reaching for her hand and leading her from the bathroom, back down the stairs. "I know you, you know? I know you'll spend the evening like this, because you know I want you to, and you'll hate it. Probably yourself, too. You'll probably find someone to make you feel better, too."

He fell quiet as they reached the bottom of the steps, leading her to the door. She had absolutely nothing to say to him, and let go of his hand quickly, pushing the door open.

"Hey."

She turned around to a kiss, his mouth gentle against hers, hands smoothing under her jacket and sweater. His height kept her shielded from the eyes of his friends, and he smiled boyishly at her when he pulled away. Hermione felt her skin crawling and aching, as though she somehow needed to be closer to him to feel comfortable. She felt disgusted for herself.

"I'll call you."

She left quickly, only slowing down once she'd reached the end of the road. As she waited at a stoplight, she slouched into the warm leather, still feeling as though Tom was buried within her. Still tasting him, too.

Knowing that he usually kept gum in the middle console, she opened it to also find a few of her favorite snacks. As she considered what it meant, what all of his attentions meant, she realized that Abraxas had likely been onto something.

She only then realized that Tom had unlocked the bathroom door as they'd left it; and it was stupid, it was really stupid, but she couldn't stop the smile that formed as she pulled onto the high way.

Although she wasn't quite sure how, she knew that he cared for her. She also knew that she needed to figure out just how far she was willing to get dragged into his lifestyle before seeing him again. It was good that he'd be away for a few days. It gave her time to think.

Her phone rang. "Yes, Tom?"

"I'm not wrong to believe you'll find someone to make you feel better this evening, am I?"

"No. You aren't wrong."

"I thought so," he whispered. A few long, silent seconds passed. The sound of a glass shattering filled her ears. "You can come tonight, then."

"Interesting you thought I wouldn't."

He chuckled darkly. "It's funny how you think I still don't know you. I've told you plenty of times, Hermione."

"Tom-"

"You're a stickler for the rules. I told you that you couldn't come until I told you, and you wouldn't. Whether you believe it or not, no matter how desperately you try, you wouldn't be able to."

She sighed, "What do you want, Tom?"

"I just have one condition on your orgasm, Granger."

"Yeah?"

She heard the smile on his face, and the darkness in his heart, as he said, "Tell your boyfriend I said hello as it happens."

VII / _**14 February 2013**_

 **AM:** Has he invited you over yet?

 **HG:** Shouldn't you be picking Apollina up from school, or something?

 **AM:** Waiting now. Did he invite you over?

 **HG:** No

 **AM:** Send flowers?

 **HG:** No

 **AM:** Huh. He's in denial too then. You at home?

 **HG:** Almost.

 **AM:** Text me if he invites you over.

 **AM:** Ok?

 **AM:** Oi! Granger!

 **AM:** He invited you didn't he?

# # #

"I thought for sure you'd be with your boyfriend."

Hermione looked up at Tom, tying her messy curls into a bun. "Yeah," she looked back at the television as he set her container of beef lo mien before her. "Turns out, he died a few nights ago."

Tom sat down beside her, incredibly unashamed and unbothered by her bringing it up. He offered her a piece of pepper shrimp with his fingers.

"Funny how that works out," she murmured, leaning forward and sucking his fingers clean.

His Adam's apple bobbed. "Yeah." He reached over and pulled her close again, licking the remaining sauce from her lips. "Maybe he was into something he shouldn't have been."

"Like what?" She questioned, picking up the pair of chopsticks he'd stuck in her noodles before grabbing the container. "My cunt?"

Tom laughed heartily, the sound tugging at every inch of her as she ate.

"You really think you can get away with killing a football star, Tom? Ron was a good guy, a decent guy."

"Does it bother you, Granger? Honestly?"

She nearly dropped her food, and chose to set down, turning toward him. " _Excuse_ me?"

"You heard me," he told her gently.

She realized, suddenly, that he wasn't trying to upset her. He was trying to get her to wake up. Hermione rubbed at her burning eyes, absolutely _hating_ herself. It seemed to be a new thing.

"How long have you known him? Since you started at Oxford? I'll bet even then you didn't really care, did you?"

"Of course I _cared_."

"You don't have to lie to me, Granger. I'm not going to judge you for who you are. You don't have to pretend anymore."

"Shut _up_ , Tom. Please. I don't want to hear this."

He laughed lightly, obviously not meaning to.

"I really don't know how you plan to get away with this one."

"I've murdered plenty of high profile people, love. I'm still a free man."

"Don't call me 'love,' Tom. I hate it."

"Don't ever mention him again, and we have a deal."

"That isn't fair! He's been in my life for _years_. Half of anything of value that has happened to me, that I've learned, has been with him."

"I've been using the word 'love' for quite some time as well."

"That is _not_ the same and you know it, Tom!"

"You don't want me to call you something I call other women –namely, probably, Bella-, and I can respect that, Hermione. I don't want to hear about Ron Weasley-"

"You don't have see and hang out with him. You wouldn't have even _known_."

"I don't want to argue about this," he sighed. "I'm not going to apologize about killing him, and I know deep down you don't want me to. I'm sure you'd prefer to know how I did it, or what he said, or something equally fucked up –because I know you, Hermione-, but I don't really want to tell you. Not right now, at least. Just know that it was _me_ , I did it. And I'd do it again, too. To anyone."

She frowned at him, angry mostly with herself for even having mentioned Ron, before relaxing into the cool leather of his couch, eyes returning to the television as they watched _Family Guy_ reruns. "I don't make deals with the devil."

Tom tensed beside her, his irritation nearly tangible. He put his food on the table before wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her to him, gently forcing her to lay her head in his lap. His fingers drew over the bridge of her nose and traced her lips. He kissed her, sucking her tongue into his mouth in a display of power. "You think I'm the devil?"

His voice was a quiet as night, smooth and warm as it filled her ears.

"If the crown fits."

"I always pictured myself more like Hades."

"Well whatever Underworld ruler you'd prefer, my Lord, _really_." She sat up, moving away from him and getting comfortable again.

He grinned. "That makes you Persephone, you know?"

" _Hardly_ , Tom. She fucking-"

"Knew what he could offer her. Ate the seeds quietly. Knowingly. Was actually much darker than he'd ever made himself out to be. Than she ever made herself out to be." He smiled gently at her, as though he wasn't slicing her to pieces with his words. "She probably lived in denial too, you know? For a while, at least.

"The best thing that ever happened to her was him. He gave her space to be herself. Offered her everything of his world and allowed her be apart of hers as well." His fingers brushed her ankle, "She probably believed she didn't make deals with the devil, too."

"I think you have too much time on your hands," she told him, suddenly unable to even think straight. It seemed laughable that she'd made it through life at all without him.

The smile he gave her wasn't the one that ripped her to pieces. Instead, it told her that he knew he'd won. Licking his lips, he said, "Well. I do live here alone. Perhaps if my fair lady joined me, I'd be more constructive."

"I like my house. I like being able to go home." It didn't pass her that she wasn't helping her case.

"I'm not asking you to give it up. I'm asking you to move in."

"We aren't even dating, Tom."

He looked amused as he said, "It's 2013, Granger."

"I've barely known you a few months."

"I think we've known each other for years."

He wasn't wrong. She bit her lip, having absolutely no other excuse. It seemed futile to argue that they barely knew each other, because they _did_ seem to know other, far better than they knew anyone else in their life. And it wasn't as though it was _hard_ being with him. In truth, it was the easiest thing she'd ever done.

She looked back at the television, her head falling onto his shoulder.

"I've got plenty of wardrobe space."

She weighed all of cons of moving in with him, with _Tom Riddle_ , her heart wrestling with her mind and sanity. At length, she said, "I don't even care about stuff like that."

"Well," he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I've got plenty of space for more bookshelves, too."

Hermione just smiled.

VIII / _**16 February 2013**_

"Will you be in the car when I get out of school?"

"Apollina, I told you: I'm dropping her off at Heathrow. Why else would anyone be awake at 7 in the morning, unless they were leaving this place?"

"They could be going to school," she suggested.

Hermione laughed, turning toward the backseat as Abraxas swore under his breath. "I'll see you in a few days, Apollina. No worries. I'll come with Daddy to pick you up."

"Walk me in?" She requested, poking at her car seat in attempt to get out of it.

Abraxas turned around quickly, seeming panicked and offended. His daughter laughed as he said, "That's our thing! How am I supposed to have a good day if I can't even start it the way I like?"

"Grow _up_ , Daddy. Aunt 'Mione, could you help me out?"

"She's even starting to sound like you, Granger. Geez."

Hermione grinned at Abraxas before tugging her hood over her head and hopping out of the car, her Hunters sloshing in the rain as she moved to get the young girl out of the car. She walked her to the door, chatting about One Direction and Peppa Pig, and running back to the car as the rain began to come down harder.

"He compared us to Hades and Persephone."

Abraxas laughed heartily, pulling away from Broadhurst. "When?"

"When do you think, Brax?"

He continued to laugh until the circled the roundabout, "So, you spent Valentine's together."

"Nothing happened. He invited me over around 7, we ordered take out. I confronted him about killing my boyfriend-"

"Wait, what? Boyfriend?"

Kicking off her boots, she pulled her legs up onto the seat, arms wrapping around her legs. "Yeah. We've been on the rocks for months, in the process of breaking up-"

"In the process? What the hell is complicated about saying, "Hey, loser, we're breaking up."

"I've known him for a long time. We were trying to be…I don't know. Friends."

"When's the funeral?"

She sighed, "Thursday."

"Holy shit. Not time wasted, huh?"

"Well, the teams on break right now, so it was the best time for them to just get it over with."

"The team?"

"Yeah. He plays for Burnley."

"What the- Hermione. You're dating- you _were_ dating Ron Weasley?"

"Yeah, I mean-"

"How the hell did you keep that quiet? Fuck, Granger. He killed _Weasley_ for you-"

"He didn't do that for me!"

"You know what I mean. Shit. He's in love with you."

"Shut up, Abraxas. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure. Of course not," he laughed again, mostly to himself. "I've only known him for half my life."

"Shut up."

"That's why you're going to Belfast, then? So you wont be here to attend."

"Of course," she murmured.

He was quiet for what felt like a long time before saying, "Persephone."

Hermione laughed.

"He really does exist on his own plain, you know?" He rubbed his chin before saying, "He's kind of right."

" _Not_ you too, Abraxas!" She punched his arm. "I'll kill you."

He laughed. "Any minute he'll ask you to move in."

Unsure what to say, she hummed in the way they usually did when they weren't saying something.

"He's already asked you."

She looked out her window, her cheeks brightening at the curious excitement in his voice as he asked, "When did he ask? Fuck, Granger. I thought we were _friends_! You're supposed to tell me these things."

"He hasn't asked. He's just suggested it a few times is all."

"Are you going to? Move in?"

"I don't know, Abraxas. I like my home. I like my space. I'd probably kill myself if I had to go home to Tom everyday."

"Is he that bad out of his armour?"

She smiled. "He's actually…well. He's very gentle. And quiet. It's disturbing, really. He wears glasses."

"Glasses! Plastic or metal?"

"They look like Clubmasters, but they're by Lanvin. He's quite cute in them. Like a little nerd that doesn't know he's a babe-"

"That's a grown man you're talking about, Granger."

She laughed softly, "I know. I've been trying to convince him to wear them out of the house. It's probably a bad idea, though. He kind of looks more like a crazy serial killer –with the curls and the glasses and his sketchy look."

Abraxas laughed. "I've been trying to tell him he looks young, but," he shook his head. "I think you'll move in by the end of the summer."

"I like my freedom, Abraxas."

"Persephone had lots of freedom," he suggested.

"Pull over. I'll walk the rest of the way."

"Yeah, right! Tom will fucking castrate me."

"Bellatrix would literally kill me if she found out I was living with Riddle."

"Listen. She's going to kill you either way, so you might as well do what you want," he shrugged. "How would she know, anyway?"

"Really, Brax? Besides the fact that she's a fucking bloodhound? We'd constantly be showing up at the same time. We'll know more about each other's plans than we should. I'd know more about you all, because we'd talk more."

"Hermione. You already hide the world from the lot of us. What's a couple more secrets?"

She sighed, swallowing heavily. "You should get out if this, you know? You have enough money and education to start over anywhere."

"So do you."

"Yeah, but you have a wife and kids. You have more to lose. There is nothing good that will come from any of this. It's all going to go up in flames."

"Is that a promise, Granger?"

The hairs on the back of her neck rose, the tone he'd voiced his question in seeming to suffocate the air. As though he _knew_ something. She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I don't know," she murmured, completely honestly.

"Well, until then," he grabbed his phone, pushing the play button and turning the car radio up, grinning at her until it started to play. As she began to laugh, he said, "We should roll down the windows."

"How old are you, Abraxas? 16?"

He shrugged, doing his best to weave through the traffic quickly. "I've never had a sister before."

Her heart sped up, pounding almost viciously against her chest. She dug her nails into her palm in attempt not to tell him, but it was suddenly the hardest thing to do.

She realized that he was still talking when he cussed loudly.

"You made me miss me favorite part," he told her, restarting the song.

As she laughed, he sang _22_ at the top of his lungs.

IX / _**21 June 2013**_

"Oh, Hermione," Bellatrix cooed, waving her over.

Sighing, Hermione walked over, forcing a pretty smile onto her face. "Hello Bella, Tom. You all look lovely tonight." She recognized her dress as Gucci, and knew Tom's suit to be Prada because she'd bought it for him.

The other woman's smile grew, stretching over her teeth and face in a beautiful, haunting fashion that left Hermione feeling empty and worn out. Tom didn't smile, which she was grateful for. Instead, he watched her hungrily through his glasses, his tongue gliding over his teeth.

"Thanks," she drawled, passing her fingers through her curls, clinging a little closer to Tom. "Anyway, I didn't think you'd make it tonight. I thought you had a client."

"I did," Hermione told her. "I do."

"Yeah," her eyes purposely looked her over, dark and humored and cruel as the observed her. "I see that."

She passed a hand through her own hair, pulling her fringe to the other side of her face. Hermione wasn't bothered by the other woman; she may not have been dressed formally, but she was confident in her attire. It was exactly what she needed for the evening.

"How'd you make it all the way to Carlisle?"

"I was in Wales, so…"

"Right."

As she asked, "Are you excited for the show, Bella," Tom lifted a champagne flute from a passing tray and handed it to her.

"Of course. It's the one night a year we can spend without rivalry, and I'm always interested in whatever sick things my friends are doing, Hermione. Tonight's third act is supposed to be quite the charmer. Maybe Tommy will pick her up," she smiled, leaning close enough to him to brush her red lips against his jaw. It wasn't a kiss, but it left a light smear of scarlet over his pale skin. "We could always use another woman, couldn't we?"

Hermione grinned, "Three's a party."

"You here alone?"

"Actually," Hermione looked behind her, waving a friend over. "I'm with Viktor Krum –he plays for Real Madrid. Runs a ring in Hungary, though. They take out pedophiles."

Bellatrix looked at her blankly, eyes lifting over her shoulder as Viktor neared them. "And how did you meet him?"

"Through my ex, actually." At her curious look, Hermione licked her lips. She'd _waited_ for this. They'd all been curious to know who'd killed Ron, and why. Tom had never mentioned it, and neither had she. Not even looking at Riddle, she lifted her eyebrows curiously, "Ron Weasley."

Bellatrix's eyes sparked dangerously, eyes seeming to cut through Tom. He paid her no mind, choosing to observe the way Viktor's arm circled her waist, tugging her closer to him as she said, "Bella, Tom –this is Viktor."

"Nice to meet you both," he told them with a firm nod of his head. "Suppose now would be an improper time to tell I'd like Hermione for myself," he chuckled.

Tom did, too. "Yes. It would be."

# # #

"Where is Granger?" Bellatrix asked.

Tom pointed toward the front of the room just as the lights dimmed, choosing not to look at her as the curtains opened. If he cared enough, he could feel her anger brewing and mounting, but he didn't. He never had.

"Tonight's third act comes from Kensington, London. Educated at Oxford University, Hermione Granger graduated at the tender age of 18, and at 22-"

Bellatrix dropped her glass, swearing loudly.

"-she is the youngest of us to be welcomed to our stage. It should come as no surprise that she is a member of young Dr. Tom Riddle's elite group.

"Tonight's hand selected slaughter is son of one of our eldest diplomats, known for getting off on a technicality after video surface of him brutally raping, abusing, and hanging his high school girlfriend.

"She's asked that we don't offer his name, and we've chosen to honor her request. Please, give your attention to Miss Granger."

It wasn't a request that needed to be made. She had everyone's attention, be it a waitress or attendee, as she pulled a mint colored sweater over her head. She turned her back to the crowd as she tied her hair into a bun, baby hair curling against the curve of her neck. The tank top she was wearing, though black, was nearly see through, revealing a collection of flower tattoos that curved along her rib cage, and the peachy lace of her bra as she turned toward them, eyes barely grazing the crowd as her fingers brushed the bare chest of the man strapped to the surgical table.

In the large screens posted on either side of the stage, his tremble was as evident as his fondness for the young woman, his eyes hungry and boxers tented.

She rubbed her fingers together as thought she was attempting to cleanse them after touching him.

"This is the best part," Rookwood murmured from somewhere behind them, his swallow of excitement nearly driving Tom to reach for his gun. He'd never gone out with her before, though the majority of his team had, and he suddenly felt as though he'd missed out on something he should have experienced intimately before watching her before a crowd.

Looking around, he noticed that she had everyone's attention. He glanced at Bellatrix to see that she'd been drawn in, her dark eyes following Hermione as she walked around, half-lidded and enchanted. Her fingers drew over her stomach in a way he was all too familiar with, and Tom dragged his eyes back to Hermione just as she stuck a match, lighting the cigarette hanging from her lips, and a nearby candle.

She whispered something to the man as she tilted the table up, allowing him to see the lounge of people watching him. His eyes squinted against the bright lights facing them, his fear evident when he realized that there were thirty people watching him. He seemed to relax as her fingers trailed down the column of his throat, momentarily distracting him as she reached for the candle, allowing hot wax to drip over his lower stomach, coating his boxers.

Her light, humored laugh and someone's moan of pleasure covered up his hiss of pain.

Wasting no time, Hermione turned away from him with a calculated twist of her hips, her eyes meeting someone in the crowds. She offered them a brief smile, the brightness of the lights highlighting the pink of her lips, as she pulled surgical gloves over her hands. She grabbed a scalpel and pressed it into the base of his throat, carving down his chest and stomach without care. As blood spilled over the creamy white of the mans skin, Bellatrix moaned, her hand reaching for Tom's.

He allowed her to pull his fingers into her mouth, his eyes watching as she continued to talk to the man as he bled out, her eyes soft and words obviously tender. He tried to make them out on the screen, but his only clue to what she may have been saying as she pried his flesh from his chest was the fact that through his cries of pain, his cheeks were flushed and eyes still full of lust, dragging over her throat and chest. He was still hard, and Tom forced himself to relax as he fought the urge to kill the man himself.

Just as he grew frustrated about the fact that he couldn't hear what she was saying, subtitles filled the bottom of the screen.

'-don't you, you filthy animal?'

Tom wondered if anyone knew that the curve of mouth and the glint in her eyes meant that she'd said the words sexually, and found himself smiling at the knowledge that at least something of this was his own.

He pulled his fingers away from his companion, ignoring her cry. "Lestrange," he called, gesturing toward to obviously needy woman. He felt Lestrange lean forward in the row behind them and glanced over to see him pressing a kiss to the curve of her neck, eyes focused ahead of him as he pressed his index and middle fingers into her mouth, his other hand pushing her dress up her thighs.

He missed whatever she said that caused the crowd chuckle, but the man appeared to be pleading with her. Hermione brushed a blood-covered hand through his hair soothingly, obviously cooing at him. Tom laughed, watching as she walked away from him, picking up a threaded needle from the surgical tray and gripping his face, forcing him to look at her. He was still pleading, and even though he was only able to see her profile, he knew the smile she offered him. His stomach tightened.

'You can give me pleasure?' The screen read. She laughed. 'Like you gave Myrtle? Mmm,' her hand danced over his thigh, smoke flowing out of her nose. The man's eyes briefly fell closed as she rested near to his cock; his mouth moving quickly, an obvious fantasy falling from his lips.

'I do. I do like that,' she laughed, head falling back. The white of the light caused her throat to gleam, and Bellatrix cried out with a few others. The man grinned at her, even in his broken state, eyeing her keenly. 'No, I've never tried that –Would I? – Not with you. I don't make it a habit of fucking rapists.'

He said something that caused her to tense, a slow smile soon forming on her face. 'My lover?'

The scalpel was still in her hand, and she used it to carve over his face, peeling away his skin. She trembled as he screamed and thrashed, and Tom found himself on the edge of his seat, eyes focused on her hips, waiting desperately for the sway of her hips that he'd grown accustomed to. He bit his lip as he saw it, eyes falling closed as he felt himself growing hard for her.

He opened his eyes to read, 'He takes very good care of me –yes, just one,' she laughed, 'he knows what he's doing.'

The man said something that pissed her off, made evident by the way she stepped away from him and set her things down, pulling off her gloves. She grabbed the scissors, cutting his boxers away from him before tossing them to the side and grabbing the candle. She pulled her cigarette from her lips and pressed the still lit edge to his cock, smiling darkly as he called out, more in pleasure then pain.

People in the audience squirmed, groans and moans of pleasure filling the air continuously. Beside him, Bella was a shaking, crying mess, which seemed to amuse Lestrange and Malfoy to no end.

She poured the wax over him, his scream of pain obviously pleasing her as she dumped the candle and pulled on a new pair of gloves. 'You're disgusting,' she told him. 'Like a dog. I've ripped you apart and still, you want me.'

Hermione grabbed the needle she had earlier. 'Is that it? Because you want to fuck me?' She laughed. 'I don't fuck dogs.'

Someone whimpered desperately, but Tom barely had any time to consider who it may have been. All to suddenly, her hand was on the man's cock, forcing the hardened wax off of him as she brought him to orgasm. The sound of other people's release joined his, yet all Tom could see was red. The mere idea of her even thinking about another man had driven him nearly insane. Actually witnessing her relieve one took every inch of his self-control to resist dragging her away from the castle.

'Perhaps not a dog. More senseless. A pig, more like. Naturally filthy and disgusting. There was never any hope for you, was there, darling? – _I'm_ filthy?'

Tom groaned, able to hear the haughtiness of her words even as he read them. He rubbed the head of his cock over his suit pants, attempting to relieve some of the pressure building in his loins as he thought of what it would be like to just get up and take her on the stage. The place wreaked of death and arousal already. He doubted that it would be too big of a deal.

He said something that caused her to laugh. 'Yeah. Just last night actually, he reminded me –what'd he say? –Mmm, oh!'

The man came again.

Her laugh seemed to echo in Tom's ears, too sweet and tender for what was happening. What _she_ was doing.

'God, you're disgusting. You're filthy – Why don't I kill you?'

She cut his tongue out of his mouth, shoving it down his throat before stitching his mouth together, pulling the thread tightly against the fullness of his lips.

Tom's breath caught in his throat as he watched her wrap her hands around the man's neck. The screens split, one side showing his face as he as was chocked to death; the other focused solely on hers. Darkness possessed her eyes, her features appearing more sinister –more beautiful- than she was before. After a few seconds, he fell unconscious, and she moistened her lips as they parted sensually, her own eyes glossing over.

It took eight, long minutes for the man to die, regardless of his state. Tom found himself both disgusted by and in awe of the man, as he understood lust and desire, and how alive both could make you feel…how _she_ could make you feel.

Bellatrix moaned Hermione's name, distracting him from his thoughts. Her eyes had fallen closed by the time he turned to look at her and Lestrange held his hands up as though he were surrendering. "Looks like you've got some competition," he joked.

He looked back at Hermione as the crowd began to clap, their needs met for the time being.

She turned to them as though she'd forgotten they were even there. The only sign that she had any involvement in what head just happened were the bloodied gloves on her hands, and the slight shine of sweat against her skin. Everyone was clapping, and he looked around to see that they all wanted her –be it for their own team or for their pleasure-, everyone except Krum. He sat relaxed in his seat across the lounge, watching her just as blankly as she was watching them, an almost sad look in his eyes.

Tom dully registered the fact that tonight would be the only opportunity he had to kill him, and he quickly considered his options before refocusing on Hermione.

Her eyes found his, sparking in recognition. She smiled – _smiled_ \- at him, as though nothing else in the world mattered.

Tom knew better. He really did. She'd come to his home enough after clients to know how she got after killing someone. But…he'd never watched her kill anyone before, and _god_ if she wasn't beautiful before a sea of people in the same profession, of people that could probably do much more for her than he ever could. And out of everyone she could have looked to, to fulfill her needs, it was _him._

He fucking knew better. But it didn't matter. He was…he was…

"God," someone groaned in front of him. "I'm in love."

X / _**20 August 2013**_

Suddenly, he stopped cold, buried within her. Hermione groaned, looking over her shoulder at him, and within an instant he let go of her ass and gripped her hair, forcing her head back and causing her back to arch.

Somehow, he sunk deeper. As she inhaled sharply, he exhaled slowly, fist tightening in her curls. The feel of his fingers trailing against her spine caused her to whimper, the searing heat of his gentleness shocking her. He shifted his hips, the coolness of his belt buckle pressing into the dip between her cheeks as his index finger found it's way back down her spine, veering off course in a pattern she didn't quite recognize.

"Tom?"

He let go of her, pulling out. His cock settled in the cleft of her bum. She would have turned to look at him again if the sound of his belt coming undone hadn't filled the room. Saying nothing, she felt the cool leather against her throat, biting her flesh as he applied pressure.

Hermione gasped. He'd never done this before. Not like this, at least.

Fear pulsed through her, causing her entire body to jerk, and then there was nothing. No thought or worry or whisper of anything but the fact that…that…There was enough room for her to swallow thickly just before he tightened the grip.

She felt the strap meet at the back of her neck as he flipped her hair out of the way. Lightly, he pushed her into the bed, fingers trailing down her hip. He hooked his arm under her waist and lifted her to him as Hermione steadied herself, fingers gripping her sheets.

"Do you trust me?" Tom asked as he leaned over her, mouth against her ear. She nodded, feeling his smile. The belt loosened. "Take a deep breath," his cock traced over her opening, grazing her clit and causing her to start in plessure. He laughed as he said, "Relax."

The leather tightened around the swell of her neck as he pressed deep into her in one, slow rock of his hips. As he began a steady thrust, she felt her breath leaving her, throat pulsing.

"Relax," he breathed, nose brushing her ear, pace picking up.

Black spots filled her vision. He pressed his fingers into her clit, rubbing rhythmically. Her thighs began to shake.

"Hermione," he whispered, his voice like air or water or life itself. "Is it good?" He asked, his voice strong and sure, because he already knew the power he held over her.

She hated it, but _god_ , if it wasn't good. Having forgotten that the belt was around her neck, she attempted to swallow –attempted to answer him- and gasped airily instead, straining and shaking against him.

He laughed, pressing a kiss into her shoulder, his fingers firm against her flesh. He whispered something she couldn't quite catch, his teeth piercing flesh just as she blacked out.

# # #

Later, during a bathroom break, she looked at the bite mark on her shoulder, fleshy and deep, slightly purple in coloring. Her eyes fell, without really considering it, and took in the odd cluster of freckles just off her spine, the same one's he'd traced. She wasn't sure what to make of it.

He was pulling his sweater over his head when she walked back into her bedroom. "I'll see you soon," he told her. "I have some busi-"

Hermione sat down on the edge of her bed, eyes locked on the hand mirror that rested on her bedside table, completely ignoring him as he continued to speak. He only stayed in bed with her when they were at his house.

A rolled hundred-dollar note rested nearby, completely forgotten. She grabbed it and inhaled the remaining line.

Tom instantly fell silent. "Hermione?"

She swallowed, rubbing at her nose before lying down. "I think my brain is bleeding."

She wasn't sure if hours had passed, or only seconds, but figured it was the latter as she felt him next to her. His bare skin was warm and smooth against hers. It was hard to know what to make of it.

"You're okay," he told her, lips brushing against her forehead as he positioned her against his chest. "God, Granger. What's wrong with you?"

She wanted to tell him that he'd touched her. But, there was nothing _wrong_ with that, because he was always touching her. It just…again, his fingers drew over skin. He'd done it a thousand times, at least. It'd never hurt her like this before.

"I don't love you."

His fingers fell still.

"Not the way you want me to."

His exploration picked back up. "How do you think I want you to?"

"Selflessly."

He gripped her shoulder, nose and lips pressing into her hair. "This is about what just happened."

"Yes," she told him, and whimpered. "Tom, I think," she pulled away from him, rubbing at her face and nose, fingers clawing at her forehead. "I don't think this is right."

"It wasn't cocaine," he told her. She looked over her shoulder at him, and he offered her his undershirt –an old, worn University of St. Andrews t-shirt that smelt like sandalwood as she pulled it over her head.

"What the fuck, Riddle?"

He shrugged, pulling off his jeans. Tugging her back to him, he said, "You love me exactly the way you should."

If she weren't feeling as though her brain was melting out of her nose, she would have found the word 'love' funny as it fell from his lips. She grabbed his hand, guiding it under his shirt and to her breast. He smirked as he squeezed, and she ignored him. "How is that?"

He rolled them over, his weight pressing onto her like a grounding force. His lips found hers briefly, grazing her jaw and down her neck before he took another bite of her, this time from her collarbone, while his thumb and index finger slid over the swell of her breast, gathering her nipple between them.

"Selfishly," he told her. "Exactly the way I love you."


	4. part three

**Warnings;** Drug Usage,

 **PART THREE**

XI / _**1 December 2013**_

"Are you all enjoying everything?"

Abraxas wrapped his arm around the waitress' waist, shaking her crudely. Hermione apologized profusely, suggesting that they start bringing out water in place of alcohol.

"It's our anniversary," Abraxas continued, still holing the waitress. "Not she and I," he gestured to Hermione before pointing at Tom, "They celebrated their anniversary a few days ago, you know. We're all still waiting on the proposal-"

"Thank god," Bellatrix supplied.

As Tom smiled, Hermione decided that she had to agree with the other woman.

"But, as a whole," Abraxas was still saying, stumbling over his words as the waitress patiently listened to him. "We could really use some drinks. Maybe some cocaine. It's our second Christmas together, you know."

Hermione was mortified.

Tom leaned over, kissed her shoulder, and distractingly whispered, "We should get married."

"I don't mix business and pleasure," she whispered back, swallowing heavy as he smiled. After a year, it was upsetting to think he still had that sort of power.

He kissed her neck, lips dragging over the bare skin there as he said, "Oh really?"

"Besides, we're not even dating."

"But, I love you."

Hermione felt Bellatrix's eyes on them, on _her_ , heavy and suffocating. "Tom," she murmured, breaking eye contact.

He didn't pull away from her, but he did look over at the other woman as though he'd forgotten that she was even there –that any of them were there, for that matter. "You enjoying yourself, Bella?"

"No," she stared pointedly at Hermione.

Tom laughed, turning and pressing another kiss to his neighbor's shoulder. "Let's get out of here."

She swallowed, glancing around the table to see that everyone was enjoying the evening. "And go where, Tom?"

He shrugged, standing up and adjusting his scarf around his neck. It was only then Hermione realized that they were dressed similarly, and not in the typical, all-black fashion that they most always wore. Glancing at Bellatrix, she realized that she'd just noticed as well. Smiling at the other woman, she tied her matching Burberry scarf warmly.

"Where are you all going?" Abraxas asked, finally letting go of the waitress.

Tom reached for her hand, and Hermione found that she wasn't quite sure what to do, because everyone _knew_ , but they'd never done this before.

Bellatrix's gaze felt like acid on an open wound.

As he smiled, she took his hand as she grabbed her purse, allowing him to pull her up. "Order scotch for Hermione and myself, Bella, love. We'll be back in a few," he told them before leading Hermione through to restaurant and into the bathroom.

"This is crazy, you know," Hermione told him, watching as he pulled a small bag of cocaine from his pocket before rooting through her purse for her mirror. "It's a long drive home, and you're already a few drinks in-"

"This is for you, Hermione, not me."

She snapped the mirror shut and dropped it back into her bag. "That was a one time thing, Tom."

"Come on, Granger. You need to relax," he grabbed the compact and her iPad from her bag and positioned it on the sink.

"Yeah, right. Coke doesn't help you _relax_. If anything, I'll be even more depressed than I already am."

"You're depressed?" He asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. Carefully, he prepared two lines for her.

"My parents hate me and my boyfriend's a drug dealing assassin. Forgive me if I'm not infinitely happy."

He licked the edge of his card before pushing it into his pocket and looking at her, eyes critical. "I don't deal," he said, pulling a bill from his wallet. Leaning over, Tom kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry, my girl-"

" _Don't_ do that. I'm not one of your little conquests."

He grinned. "No, Granger, I suppose you aren't." Touching her hair, he passed her the rolled 100 note. It was always a 100 note, as though it made something better. "Of course you aren't, actually. Take a hit."

She had no desire to do so, but she found herself taking to bill from him and tugging her hair over one shoulder. As she glanced at him, he smiled softly at her and said, "I've got you, Hermione. I always will."

For some reason, she plugged a nostril and snorted. He rubbed her back, nimble fingers brushing her cable-knit and button up away as he brushed up her spine. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the other and stood up, "What are you going to tell me next, that you're all I need?"

Tom drew one arm around her waist, "You're all I need."

"Riddle. Please."

He laughed, pressing a kiss to her neck before letting her go. "Come on, Granger. Say you need me, too."

It was the last thing she wanted to admit, and she told him so, the air shifting around them as though the universe had to make space for her admission, or lack of, for that matter. His pushed his way under the front of her shirt, fingers warm and firm against the softness of her stomach, thumb brushing soothingly against her skin.

"We should get back. Are you alright?"

"I'm alright."

He hummed, almost disbelievingly, licking the mirror clean before rinsing and putting it in his pocket. Putting her iPad back into her purse, he pushed it up her arm and onto her shoulder before they left the restroom, lacing their fingers together familiarly. "It's pure this time," he told her, humor in his voice. "Are you okay?"

She felt hot and restless, but she didn't want to tell him that. A tremor passed through her shoulders, eyes suddenly focusing on the oddly shaped lump under the thick, dark wool of his sweater. Realizing that it was his gun, Hermione fought the desire suddenly pulsing through her. "I'm _okay_ , Tom. Geez."

He laughed, allowing her to sit down before he did. She rubbed her face, barely registering the fact that Bellatrix was speaking to them, and felt the dull paranoia that had settled over her pass, leaving behind only – _oddly_ \- bliss. Smiling at the other woman, she slouched in her seat, comforted by the feel of Tom's arm across the back of her chair.

"You alright, Grange?" Lestrange asked from across the table, looking curiously between the couple.

She smiled at him, attempting to mimic the way Tom's lips pulled slow and steady over his teeth when he was simultaneously showing off and proving a point to them. As he grinned back, she realized that she must have managed the look. "I'm perfect, Atticus, thanks."

The group returned to their celebration, laughing and drinking as they ate. She would have been embarrassed if she'd been sober, but Tom had taken care of that. He brushed his knuckles over the back of her neck, forcing her attention on him as he set an empty shot glass on the table.

As their eyes meet, he said, "It's okay." His thumb rubbed circles into her tensed neck muscle, gaze too charming to drop. With a smile that could kill death itself, he told her, "Let go. I'm here. I'm all you need. I really do love you, Hermione."

She'd known for the last year that this was poison –that _he_ was poison, and that he'd gotten used to warped salvation she offered him. Even with the subtle darkness she'd nurtured, it had become something he relied on. What she hadn't known, before this moment –even after everything-, was that she relied on him, too.

"Tom, I," she swallowed thickly, unsure of what she was even trying to say. There was so much, and everything was suddenly so heavy and real and yet…it _was_ okay, and she wasn't sure if it was the drugs or the truth.

He leaned in- fingers firm about her neck, thumb tilting her jaw in the right direction-, and kissed her hard. She felt as though her heart would explode any second, sooner even, as he worked his mouth over hers, coaxing her into participating…as though…as though-

Bellatrix actually shrieked.

Tom winced, pulling his mouth away, but otherwise paying her no mind. "You're my girl, Hermione." His fingers twisted into the hair at her nape, and he kissed her again, mouth soft against hers. "You're _mine_."

It was sick, but she couldn't deny it.

XII / _**15 December 2013**_

Hermione pulled the front door open to see two police officers standing on she and Tom's front step. She frowned. "Can I help you?"

"Hermione Granger?"

"Yes?"

"Hermione?" Tom called, his voice nearing them. "Oh," he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Officers. How can we help you?"

"We're here to speak with Miss Granger, actually."

"It's fine," she told them. "He's…well, we're in a relationship."

He pinched her hip, but otherwise hid his amusement of her description of them.

"Perhaps you should sit down, Miss Granger."

It was only then that she realized they were holding their hats in their hands. She gripped at Tom's shirt, "No, I- What is it? Has something happened to Harry or Ginny?"

"No. We're incredibly sorry to have to inform you of this, Miss Granger. But, your parents were found dead this morning."

XIII / _ **25 December 2013**_

Hermione woke up to a throbbing headache, barely able to feel her own body.

From the light streaming through the window behind her, she supposed it was afternoon, and groaned loudly as she attempted to sit up, patting around her for her cell phone.

She wasn't sure how she'd made it to her own home, but figure it had to have been Abraxas-

"You alright?"

She screamed, instantly looking over her shoulder to see Tom lying next to her. He set her copy of _Things Fall Apart_ on his chest, eyeing her curiously.

"Are you _naked_?"

"I am. As are you." He frowned. "Do you not remember last night?"

She closed her eyes, rubbing them in attempt to remember. Hazily, she remembered him shaking her nearly to death, angry with her for doing too much cocaine. But, that couldn't have been right. "Barely."

"You nearly died, Hermione. On the floor of club bathroom, of all places."

She shook her head, looking over at him to see that he was completely serious. "How?"

He sighed. "We were drinking. You decided you wanted some cocaine-"

" _Excuse_ me?"

"Don't look at me like that, Granger. I'm not the bad guy here. I tried to stop you, but…Listen, it doesn't matter. You're fine. You're safe."

She ran her fingers through her curls, twisting them around her fingers. "Why are we _here_?"

"Abraxas said you might feel safer if you woke up in your own house." He set the book on his nightstand and sat up, the blanket falling lower on his stomach. "Funny that he knows more about this place than I do."

She laid back down, the backs of her hands over her eyes as she attempted to remember more of the night before. But, it seemed futile. "And you stayed."

"You begged me to fuck you until you couldn't feel anything, and then until you passed out."

"And you _did_?" She sat up, staring at him with wide eyes.

He almost seemed offended. "Well, Granger. I wasn't going to leave you here, high out of your mind, and alone."

Tom got out of bed and began to pull on his clothes. "You're upset with me for not listening to you, and you're upset with me when I do. I have no idea what to do to please you, save giving you someone to kill."

"Tom-"

"I didn't _want_ to have sex with you, if it makes you feel any better. It was disgusting. Like fucking Bellatrix, only worse, because you were so fucking _sad_ about your parents. But, not even because they were dead -which I would have _understood_ -, but because it meant that you were alone now." He shook his head before putting on his pull over.

"Tom, please-"

"Don't bother, Granger. Really. I get it-"

"Well, I'm glad you do. Because I don't."

He stopped dead, turning and looking at her as though he wasn't quite sure who she was. "Hermione."

She tried not to cry, she _really_ did, but the tears seemed to form without care for her desires. "I didn't mean to upset you," she told him.

He sat down on her side of the bed and pulled her to him. "And I didn't mean to be so cruel, Hermione. You just…you really piss me the fuck off sometimes. It's like you don't even realize how alike we are."

She wanted to tell him that they weren't alike at all, but it wasn't the right time.

"You're at least more adept to understanding basic human emotions and needs than I am. So, when you ask me for space and shut me out, I believe that's genuinely what you need. I didn't realize that it was the opposite, really. I wouldn't…I wouldn't have left you for so long if I'd known. I would have been there for you."

"Did I really do that much coke?"

"There was blood dripping from your nose when I found you."

" _God_. That's embarrassing. Did anyone…did anyone see me?"

He sighed. "No, Hermione. You know I wouldn't let that happen."

"I don't even do drugs, Tom, I…I don't know how I would have let that happen."

"Greif is powerful and dangerous, Hermione."

"Please don't lecture me on grief, Tom. I can't bare it."

He reached for her hand, thumbing rubbing her knuckles soothingly as he said, "You can tell me anything, Hermione. You know that."

"Well, I'd appreciate it if you left me alone, Tom."

"I tried that! And you tried to off yourself. What were you thinking? Nothing is ever that bad, Hermione. Are you listening to me? _Nothing_."

She pulled her hand away from him. "You wouldn't understand-"

"I wouldn't? My parents are fucking dead, too. I think I know what you're feeling. You can talk to me."

"You don't _feel_ anything, Tom! You're a fucking wall. Why would I want to talk to you?"

He tugged a hand through his hair. "I'm going to let that one go."

"Yeah. Thanks."

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "You can't do shit like this, Hermione. You _can't_. You don't do drugs, remember? You can't fall apart on me. Not because of this. Not like this."

"When can I fall apart then, huh? And for what? My parents' being dead isn't enough, obviously. Is the fact that I have _nothing_ enough for you? Or is that what you wanted?"

"Why would I want that?"

"Because it fits your sick idea of us being-"

"Don't say it, Hermione. Please don't disrespect me that way," he got up, pacing the room a few times before undressing and getting back in bed.

"I needed you. More than I ever needed anything or one. And you just," she shrugged. "You just weren't there. I know I asked for space I just…I don't know. I thought you knew what I meant."

"Yeah. I thought I did, too."

"And all that cocaine was just _there_."

He touched her hair, brushing it over her shoulder before smoothing his fingers down her neck. "Tell me what's wrong, Hermione."

"What did I say? Last night, I mean. About my parents."

He sighed. "It doesn't matter. You weren't in your right mind."

She looked at him. "Would you be sad if I died?"

"I don't think sad is the word I would use."

"Right," she looked away, wiping the tars from her cheeks and neck. "I guess we are pretty similar.

"I don't feel sad, Tom. Not really. Not for them. I feel sad for myself, because the two people that reminded me what life meant, what happiness, preservation, and compassion meant…How am I supposed to exist without that? I've always felt better knowing that they're just down the street. Waiting for me to get my shit together, or something. I feel…alone. That's it. I just feel alone. Is that…is that what you felt when your parents died?"

"No. I wasn't really attached to my mother when she died, and I killed my father for myself, so," he shrugged, trailing his thumb down her spine. "I didn't register the fact that I was alone for a long time."

"And what happened when you did? What did it feel like?"

He was quiet for some time, fingers tracing the beauty marks on her back. "Fear," he finally told her, voice barely a whisper. "Never ending. All consuming. But, Hermione, it isn't because I don't want to be alone. It's because I can't imagine losing you."

She got out of bed, wincing from the tightness drawing over her body and the ache between her thighs. Pointedly ignoring Tom's smirk as she shifted her bare hips, attempting to find some sort of relief, Hermione fled to the bathroom.

# # #

An hour later, she climbed back into bed, her arm drawing over his waist as she kissed his back.

"Tom," she whispered, drawing her nails over his stomach. He winced as she passed over puckered skin. It was warmer than the rest of his skin, the way a fresh wound would be, and she sat up, pulling the covers away and forcing him to turn over.

"What happened?" She questioned, eyes glued to the knife wound on his abdomen, recognizing the deep red of the medical stitches as her own.

"It's nothing, Hermione. I deserved it. Really."

She swallowed as he opened his arms to her. Deciding not to press the subject, she laid down with him, her eyes falling closed as she breathed him in. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I love you."

He rubbed her back soothingly. "I know."

"Happy Christmas, Tom Riddle."

Kissing her hair, he murmured, "Happy Christmas, Granger."


	5. part four

**PART FOUR**

XIV / _**6 January 2014**_

"You really know Dumbledore?" Lestrange asked, craning his neck slightly.

Hermione looked up from her book, frowning slightly from the pain. "How is it looking?" She didn't feel comforted by his shrug of indifference. "Yeah," she murmured, flipping a page and skimming it. "I know him."

"How well do you know him?"

She closed the book, tossing it into the bag sitting next to him. "Why?"

"No reason-"

"No reason," she repeated, watching him blankly. "No reason but Tom, right? What the hell does Tom want with Dumbledore?"

"Give us a minute, Greengrass. Perhaps get us some Starbucks."

Hermione felt the artist complete the section before resting the gun on the tray and leaving. "I'm paying him by the hour, you know?"

To say he least, he didn't care. She'd been curious as to why he'd joined her today, as he hadn't shown any interest in her tattoo before today, but she hadn't imagined that it'd have anything to do with Dumbledore. Sitting up, her straightened hair fell over her bare chest, thick and heavy even without her curls, but his discomfort was obvious. She pulled the sheet she'd been laying on over her and asked, "Well?"

"I have no interest in Dumbledore and his dealings."

"No offense, but you don't seem to have any interests at all."

As they made eye contact, he gave a dry laugh. "Tom heard he's involved with Grindelwald. I was tasked with looking into it."

She frowned, "Why on earth would I know if he's involved with Grin? I've been with you all for over a year now."

He plucked a piece of lint off his slacks. "Grin?"

Running her tongue along the inner curve of her teeth, Hermione looked down as though she were embarrassed. She wasn't. "I've been tasked with befriending Grindelwald."

Lestrange actually looked impressed with she looked up. "And that's working out for you?"

She ran her hand through her hair, pulling her fringe to the opposite side as she watched him. "I met Dumbledore when I started at Oxford, as he is the division head for the MPLS department, _and_ he is the most accomplished physicist in the country. We shared an academic bond, but that's as far as it goes, as we didn't understand each other beyond the basic facts and appreciations for the physical sciences. We send papers back and forth, but that's it."

"And Grindelwald?"

She sighed. "Unofficially, he approached me a few weeks before I was forced out of Cambridge, with a job offer-"

"Why would Grindelwald approach _you_ , though? You hadn't even begun your studies."

Hermione stared at him with wide, disturbed eyes, deeply offended by his stab at her intelligence. Ignoring him, she said, "I turned him away, as I'm was well aware of his colorful history and his stance on controversial topics dear to me. However, since Tom has asked me to reacquaint myself with him, I find he's quite charming."

"He's missing practically all of his teeth."

"He has quite a good dentist, thank you. And he's very intelligent. Why is Tom concerned about he and Dumbledore?"

Lestrange seemed on the fence about telling her before sighing and reaching for his soda. "Grindelwald asked something of Tom that he was uncomfortable with. He believes he went to Dumbledore and his pet Potter."

"He said no," Hermione shrugged, the soreness of her skin settling over her. She laid back down, careful to keep her hair off of her back. "He can't be upset about Grin going to someone else."

"Dumbledore has had it out for Tom since we were at St. Andrews, Grange. He knew his mother, or something, and felt that Tommy should transfer to Oxford. That the family owed him that much- Tom was quite scholarly," he supplied at her confused look.

But, Hermione had already known that. What she didn't understand was why Dumbledore would expect anything of Tom.

"He got the school to offer him a full ride, and everything. He hadn't even _applied_ , you know?"

"What did he study?"

He gave her a funny look, as though he wasn't sure how they could have been together for so long and she not know. "Tom did his undergrad in biochemistry and economics, that's how we meet. He holds masters in biochemistry and medicine, and I believe he is working on his second PhD. Haven't figured out in what yet. He is quite accomplished. That's why you all suite each other so well. Everyone's watching and yet," he gestured largely.

"And yet _what_ , Atticus?"

"You all are permitted to do whatever you'd like. Someone _has_ to know you all murder people for a living, and yet you walk around free as birds. Any minute now, and you'll get offers from the government."

"What does any of this have to do with Dumbledore?"

"Well, nothing."

She groaned tiredly, glancing over her shoulder as Greengrass walked back into the room.

He passed her a Gingerbread Latte and a slice of pumpkin bread. "Tom sends his love."

She tensed uncomfortably as Lestrange accepted his usual Green Tea Latte and said, "Oh, that's so kind. I'll have to give him a ring later. Perhaps invite him over for dinner."

"Not you. Her. I brought a straw, Granger, so you can drink while I work."

"Thank you," she murmured.

He put his headphones on before getting back to work.

At length, she said, "Grin has no interest in Dumbledore, and Potter is a good boy from a good family. He won't get involved with anything, especially something Tom is turning down."

"I hear Potter would do anything for Dumbledore, though. He's like a godfather or something."

"Dumbledore is _not_ Harry's godfather, and his moral compass isn't compromised. Perhaps in another universe, but not this one. Tell Tom you looked into it, and there is nothing to worry about."

Lestrange nodded quietly, but she noticed that something was eating at him, and told him to spit it out. "You know Potter too, then?"

"We haven't spoken in awhile, but he was the only reason I made it through Oxford. Even to this day, I trust him with my life."

She was nearly done with her latte when he said, "So. You and Riddle, huh?"

Hermione laughed loudly, her whole body shaking so greatly that it forced Greengrass to stop his shading. " _God_ , Lestrange," she wiped tears from her eyes, "where have you _been_?"

XV / _**18 March 2014**_

" _God_ ," Hermione murmured. "Get _away_ from me."

"After everything we've been through?" Tom questioned, genuine confusion on his face.

She wanted to press her steak knife through his chest. It would have been the easiest thing she'd done in months. "Yes," she told him, leaning forward. His eyes fell, tongue darting out to moisten his lips as he observed her breasts, straining against the top of her dress. "I would do- no, I would have done anything for you, do you realize that? And you've betrayed me," angrily, she wiped at her face. "You killed my _parents_."

"If I didn't, Dumbledore would have-"

" _Why_ would he have killed them, Tom? He has _nothing_ to do with them."

"You don't get it, do you? You invited Grindelwald into your _life_ , Hermione. You hooked him in with all your beauty and charms and your _parents_. Your father was a powerful man, and in Dumbledore's eyes, he was _way_ to chummy with an enemy of England to be up to anything good. He was a threat. Just like you are, just like I am."

She shook her head, tugging her fingers through her hair. "No-"

"Hermione. Please. Listen to me. You're the most important thing in my life; you have been for _years_ now. I would never do anything to hurt you-"

"You killed my parents, Tom," she all but managed not to scream it.

"I was _protecting_ you."

For once, she saw something other than calculated deceit or obsession from him. The anger that shined in his words and eyes caused her to genuinely consider what he was saying. "Dumbledore is a kind and gentle man-"

"He killed my mother," he admitted, barely even able to look at her. "Because she'd found out something she shouldn't have known about his past. I was six, hiding under the sink. She _suffered_ , Hermione. At his hand. And do you know what that sick bastard did, when I ended up in the orphanage? He paid for my education. He," he broke off, sucking in deep breath. "My point is that I know what he is capable of when he thinks you know something you shouldn't. I'm sorry for hurting you. I truly am. But I saved them from something no one should have to suffer through, and I won't apologize for that."

"You've taken everything from me."

He rubbed his face. "I know. I'm sorry."

She placed her napkin on the table, "I can't forgive you. I don't even want to look at you. _God_ , Tom," she got up quickly, suddenly unable to even be in the same room as him.

"Hermione," he said softly, eyes lifting up to her slowly. His jaw pulsed, eyes darkened.

It was sick, and she felt her body shaking in personal disgust, but she truly felt herself caving. "What?"

"When you walk out, are you walking out forever, or until you feel like seeing me again?"

"Forever, Tom. You know I don't do things in halves."

He stood up, too, buttoning his suit jacket and stepping closer to her.

"Don't touch me," she told him.

He bit his lip, lowering himself to one knee.

Hermione _did_ grab her steak knife. She felt eyes on them, gasps from the nearby tables. All she could think was that it would just take a few seconds to get the knife through his breastplate. Before someone pulled her off of him, she would have done her damage. She could even get a few stabs in to his stomach before anyone noticed anything. "Don't you dare, Tom Riddle," she bit out, but she felt even less resolve now.

In all honestly, she could barely remember her life before he entered it, and picturing it without him hurt more than it should have, given her current knowledge. But, the thought of walking out –no matter how desperately she wanted and needed to- left an empty hole in her chest, the place where her heart should have been physically aching.

"You look beautiful this evening, you know?"

"I know."

He smiled, drawing her hand into his and placing it on his jaw. Kissing her wrist he said, "You're the most beautiful thing in my life."

"And I'm about to _leave_ it, Tom. Stop acting like this. Get up."

"Hermione," he produced a small, dark green box from seemingly nowhere.

Despite herself, her breath caught in her throat. Her grip tightened on the knife. "Tom," she warned.

Tears continued to roll down her cheeks, her shoulders trembling with the pressure and effort to even survive. She _hated_ herself, because he was all that she had left, and she completely understood that he'd _made_ it that way, but…

"Hermione," he repeated, voice as smooth as silk as she heard it. Flipping the box open, he revealed an opal ring, set in gold and surrounded by diamond. It physically hurt to look at. "Will you marry me?"

Someone at a nearby table cussed, and she recognized it as Bellatrix.

She'd always been selfish and repugnantly self obsessed.

"May I stab you in the stomach?"

XVI / _**2 May 2014**_

"We should just elope," Hermione murmured, tossing her bridal magazine off the side of the bed.

Tom looked up from his newspaper, glasses on the tip of his nose. She smiled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as he said, "I've been meaning to go to Vegas."

She laughed. "We'd still have to have a wedding, you know? Or, a least a reception."

"You'd really just marry me, Granger? Just me and you?"

"It's always just me and you, Tom. What's the difference?"

He set his paper and glasses to the side, "Really?"

" _Geez_ , Riddle. How often do I go back on my word?" Getting out of bed, Hermione walked over the closet to find something to wear. "But not Vegas. What about Morocco?"

He frowned. "What about Scotland? We could spend the weekend."

"We could spend the rest of our lives, Tom. It's just over the border."

He laughed.

# # #

"Hello, Abraxas?" Hermione smiled at Tom. He stood less than an arms length away, hands on his hips as he waited on her to finish her call.

"Are you okay?" Abraxas asked, worry heavy in his voice.

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?"

"I…I don't know. You sound panicked? Where's Tom?"

She tugged a hand through her hair, uncertain of why he seemed so worried over her phone call. Perhaps it was because she usually texted him. "He's right here. We're actually…we're in Scotland. We were wondering if you'd come over for a few hours."

"What the hell are you doing in Scotland?"

"Just hanging out. Listen, are you busy? Can you come?"

"Yeah. I can…I just have to go pick up a ticket. What part?"

"I'll text you."

"Okay."

"Wear something nice, okay?"

He was quite for some time before finally saying, "Granger. Are you asking me to be your witness?"

"Yeah, we're…yeah."

"You're eloping."

She didn't understand his hesitancy. "Yes. Whether you're here or not, love. And we'd really prefer it if you were here."

"Really? The both of you? Tom doesn't seem much like the type to really want anyone anywhere; bar, say, six feet under."

"Tom and I, Abraxas. You mean a lot to us. Please come."

He sighed. "I'll come for you. But, for the record: I don't support this."

# # #

Tom laughed, his shoulders shaking as he rubbed his eyes. Abraxas looked at Hermione with wide eyes, as though he was shocked to see him happy, and she realized that he probably didn't carry on with them like this. Realistically, regardless of the fact that may have been friends before, Abraxas worked for Tom.

"You've really got him hook and line, Granger," he commented, sipping his beer and shaking his head as Tom continued to laugh.

She pinched at his cheek, barely even considering what she may look like before saying, "Riddle."

"What?"

"I'm Hermione Riddle. Granger's a bit obsolete now."

As he calmed down, Tom drew an arm over her shoulders and kissed her hair. Hermione felt herself blushing as he whispered, "Hermione Riddle," as though he couldn't quite believe it. His fingers slid over her neck soothingly.

"Right. Sorry. Still processing the fact that two most calculated people in my life just _eloped_ like a couple of teenagers."

"It's actually becoming an increasingly popular trend amongst young professionals. Balancing work and life, you know, it's hard. Who has time to plan a wedding?"

"Well…you."

"Shut _up_ , Abraxas. We're celebrating."

"You aren't drinking."

"So?"  
"Are you pregnant?"

Tom coughed. "Not yet."

"We aren't having children."

"Yet," he prompted, eyeing her before looking at Abraxas. "We aren't hiding anything, Malfoy. She suggested it, I agreed, and here we are three days later. I love her, and she deals with my shit. It was a logical step in our relationship."

Abraxas chugged his beer. "Well, good. Because Bellatrix would flip if she found out you were married and expecting at the same time. She'd kill you both."

XVII / _**15 July 2014**_

Abraxas continued to bang on the door, yelling for Hermione to open it. He'd been out there for an hour, and although she didn't open it –didn't even say a word to him-, he remained, and she sat on the other side, tears silently streaming down her face. She was thankful for his being there, for him caring about her enough to come and find her, and visit everyday. No one else had.

"Hermione, love. At least knock a few times."

She tapped her nails against the door, smiling as he laughed.

"Have you been there the whole time?"

"Yeah," she told him, her voice barely reaching the other side of the door.

He knocked what seemed to be his head against the door. "You feel like letting me in?"

At least ten minutes passed before she pressed her finger to the lock, allowing the click to echo as she moved away from the door. He sat down beside her, kicking off his shoes and stretching his legs across the foyer. "We're friends, you know? You can tell me whatever you need to tell me. I…you hang out with my children, Granger. No one else even knows that I have children."

She rested her head on his shoulder, wiping the tears from her face. "He killed my parents." He tensed. "He killed them, and I _knew_. I married him anyway."

"Hermione," he murmured, turning toward her.

"I don't want you to say anything. I _know_."

He left to make a cup of tea, forcing her to drink it when he returned. "How did you find out?"

"Fucking Grindelwald. Who else?"

Abraxas nodded understandingly, swallowing loudly. In vain, she tried to stop crying, but everything seemed as though it was pressing upon her, forcing her to acknowledge the fact that she'd really and truly fucked up. That she was _in love_. There was nothing left for her to do, save her job, and even that was becoming harder by the second.

"Can I ask you something? It's…its okay if you can't answer it."

"Okay."

"Did you really get kicked out of Cambridge?"

"No. I left on my own."

"It wasn't a mistake, then? Tom finding you."

She set her cup down on the floor, wiping her face again. "No."

He licked his lips, staring blankly at the wall across from them. "Why do you think he wanted your parents dead?"

Hermione picked up her tea, finishing the cup and standing up. She left him in the foyer, choosing to shower and get dressed, and rejoin society. It'd been a week since she'd left her house, since she'd even spoken or heard from anyone, besides Abraxas. She wasn't sure what to make of the fact that it'd been him, but she forever grateful that it hadn't been Tom. She probably would have killed herself if he'd come by.

The blond was in her kitchen when she got back downstairs. He smiled at her from the stove, "The only thing I know how to make well is chicken and broccoli. The chef does most of the cooking at home."

She sat down at the counter, pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her hands. "I think he wants to make sure he's all that I have."

"It's not true." He turned off the stove and sat down across from her. "I mean, maybe for him. But, you _aren't_ alone here, Hermione. I," he swallowed. "I wouldn't allow that. I don't want you to feel that way."

She didn't question it. The fact that he was there was proof enough. "Thank you."

"Tom's a fucking sociopathic orphan that grew up alone because he wanted to be. Because he believes himself to be god, or whatever. Better than the rest of us –well, maybe not you. He thinks the world of you –has a sick way of showing it, but…I don't doubt that that was his reasoning. And I'm sorry. Especially for him, because you're all that he has, but he is not all that you have."

"Thank you."

He got up quickly, looking through her cabinets for a plate. "Why'd you marry him? If you knew, I mean."

She laughed. "Because I'm a sociopathic UC that grew up desperate to fit in, and belong somewhere."

Abraxas dropped a plate, and although she _heard_ it, she didn't really _understand._

"And I finally found someplace. Here. With him; in him; because of him. However you want to say it." She looked up to see that he was watching her with wide eyes. "And more than anything, I love him."

* * *

 **A/N:** I can see your reviews via email, but I can't see them on this site or reply to them. As soon as I can, I will. In the mean time, thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it.

I will post the last update in a few days, and I hope to have another story (similar to this one!) posted soon.


	6. part five

**Warnings;** Semi-graphic murder, sex

 **PART FIVE**

XVIII / _ **19 September 2014**_

"Hermione," Tom murmured. His fingers drew through her hair as hers drew over on of the scars on his stomach, barely an inch away from the lung that lay beneath.

"Tell me," she murmured.

He sighed. "My dad. I was…four. Maybe five."

When he didn't give any more information, she sat up enough to kiss the scar.

Tom smiled, hand circling her neck and pulling her toward him. He pressed his lips to hers, free hand skimming her body. His fingers pressed into her hip before traveling up her torso and gripping at her breast. His thumb brushed the fleshy mound there, and she sighed contentedly.

"What did you want to say?"

"I forgot to tell you –last night," he broke off to smirk, nipping at her collarbone before crudely murmuring, "before I fucked you into the bathroom floor, like the filthy fucking-"

 _"_ _Tom_ ," Hermione tried to push away from him.

"Right. Sorry, love. Forgot that you aren't into that without murder," he kissed her neck. "You're pregnant."

She leaned over his side of the bed and threw up.

XIX / _**9 November 2014**_

Tom kicked the body, turning it over. "How'd the appointment go?"

She watched him squat over the body, poking at the wound in her shoulder with the nose of his gun. "I'm four months pregnant, actually. Not two. She said spotting was normal, so…that's why I thought it was two months."

He smiled at her. "We're having a baby."

"Two."

"What?"

She looked away from him, down at the body. "We're having twins, Tom."

"Fuck." He swallowed loudly. "Hermione, my love-"

"Tom, please. What did I tell you about calling me that?"

He rubbed the nose into a clean spot on the woman's shirt before getting up. "I called you _my_ love, Hermione. It means your _mine_. It's not like Bella. She could be any and everyone's for all I know, or even care."

"I just don't want to think about her while I tell you that I'm having twins. That I'm carrying _your_ twins."

"Okay," he rubbed his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket.

As he looked up at the ceiling, she watched the woman twitch, her fingers twisting around a nearby knife. Briefly, she wondered what it would be like for her to hurt Tom. He'd probably lose his final shreds of sanity.

She wouldn't get very far, though. Her legs were smashed nearly to pieces, and there was a hole in her neck, blood seeming to poor from it in waves. It was a wonder, really, that she was even still alive. But, Hermione understood. She'd wanted to kill him for months. This woman had barely known him an hour and she was sick of his shit.

Sighing, Hermione pulled her gun from where it hung at her torso, instantly taking off the safety and shooting the woman in the head.

"Jesus, Granger. What'd you do that for?"

She sighed. "She was going to slice your ankle, Tom." Rubbing her face, she walked over to a window and leaned on it, eyes following a passing car. "I thought you said no one comes out here."

"They don't." He walked over to her, arm circling her waist and fingers splaying over the small curve of her stomach protectively. They watched the car until it disappeared, Tom rubbing her skin gently. "Were you able to find out the sex?"

"You're going to have a son and a daughter."

"A daughter," he repeated, smiling against her ear. "If she's anything like you, she'll be perfect."

Her eyes fell closed, hand moving to rest over his. He twined his fingers through hers. "And he'll be strong, like you."

Tom laughed. "Thank god he'll have you, Hermione." He was quite for a few minutes, sobs of a dying man coming from a few rooms over. "You're barely even showing."

"My mother didn't start showing until she was about six months."

"Yeah, but it was just you in there."

"I ate my twin during the third trimester. They had to do an emergency C-Section."

"Fuck, Granger. You were always meant for this, then."

They both laughed.

"It's a good thing, really. That I'm not showing. Bella would have my head."

He kissed her jaw. "I'd never let her touch you."

And then, suddenly, his hold on her tightened, his face turning into her neck, seemingly for comfort. "We have to stop this. With…god, Hermione. A son I deal with. We could make do, you know? But a _daughter_."

She wiggled out of his hold and turned toward him, smiling as he cupped her jaw. He kissed her mouth softly, repeatedly, and she realized that he was nervous.

It was almost funny.

"I know," she told him, reaching up to hold his wrist as he kissed her forehead. "I was going to tell you that. We can't- _I_ can't raise my children like this."

"Let's finish out the year, okay? Then, whatever you want, I'll do it. Everything is yours."

"You could really walk away from this, Tom? I know…I know how much it all means to you."

He pulled her closer to him, arms wrapping around her shoulders. "For you," he murmured. "I've always told you I can and would do anything for you, Hermione."

"I love you," she mouthed ,clutching at him almost desperately.

He smoothed his hand over her hair as though he'd heard her.

"But, Hermione," he pressed his thumbs to her jaw, lifting her head. The look in his eyes was cruel as he asked, "Can you?"

XX / _**23 December 2014**_

Tom moaned, rubbing sleep from his eyes before lifting the sheet to see Hermione smiling at him. "Good morning, Hermione. Babies."

"Don't talk to them right now, Tom, geez. You'll ruin it."

He pressed up on his elbows. "Come. Kiss me."

"Kiss you or kiss it?"

He smiled, and –for once- she was fine. She smiled too, sitting up and sucking his tongue into her mouth before kissing down his throat.

"Lay down. Tom. Relax."

"Hermione," he murmured as she licked the head of his cock. "I love you."

Having no desire to say it back, or even acknowledge him, she blew him until he came, laying her head on his stomach when she was done, the cool handle of her Swiss knife still gripped in her hand.

"Maybe you shouldn't swallow anymore. It makes me uncomfortable to think that my own children are-"

"Oh, for fucks sake, Tom. Shut up."

He laughed, pulling the tie from the bottom of her braid and combing his fingers through her curls until they were splayed over he and the bed. "Granger. Don't think any less of me-"

"Admittedly, I probably couldn't."

He forced her to look at him, fingers gentle as they smoothed over the swell of her throat. "20 August."

"What?"

"The day I watched you choke a man to death."

Hermione laughed, uncertainty suddenly flooding her. "He was half dead anyway, Tom. It wasn't anything."

"Really? I hear it's your preferred style."

"Well. It was nothing when you saw it."

He smiled, continuing to graze her jaw and throat. "It's all I've thought about for a year, Hermione. "

She sighed, fingers drawing over a scar on his stomach. "How did you get this?"

"You gave it to me last Christmas."

Having absolutely no recollection of ever stabbing him outside of her dreams, she kissed it. "What do you want? To choke me?" It was nothing new.

"No. I want you to choke me."

She smiled, discreetly kicking her knife off the side of the bed.

"What was that?"

"My phone. Don't worry."

Hermione sat up, straddling his hips as her fingers grazed the swell of his throat. She noticed the desire hazing his eyes before she kissed his mouth, licking his lips and tongue wantonly as she pressed her thumb into the soft spot beneath his jaw. "How bad do you want it?" She asked him, voice low.

His eyes fell closed, cock hardening against her core as he breathed her name.

She decided not to push her luck. Instead, she pressed into his cock, slowly rubbing herself over it. He groaned, reaching for her hands and lacing their fingers together. Just as he shifted her hips and sunk down onto him, he said, "Hold on."

Hermione suddenly wished that she'd just stabbed him instead.

"I was thinking Mia. Or Athena."

" _What_?" She breathed, praying that he wasn't talking about names for their children. She wiggled her hips, helping him to sink deeper, smiling at him as he attempted to concentrate on whatever it was he was trying to say.

"I'm not really sure about boys names. I think I heard you mention Hugo once-"

She felt her heart stop, because she had mentioned Hugo. _Once_. They'd both been drunk in a small Italian town, and she'd humored him by helping to plan out their future together. He'd been sure they'd only have sons then, though he had no idea what he'd name any of them.

"My middle name is Marvolo. It has a bit of character to it, I think. Mia and Marvolo." He hummed, letting go of her hands and placing his on her hips. "Go slow," he told her, almost distractedly. "Probably Mia and Hugo."

He stroked her stomach, and she couldn't stop herself from falling forward, her cheek resting on his shoulder as she began to cry.

"Fuck…did I do something wrong, Hermione?"

"Besides trying to name our children while we have _sex_ , Tom?"

He laughed.

"Nothing. You didn't do anything. I just…I love you, is all. I guess I hadn't realized quite how much until right now."

He kissed her cheek, wrapping his arms around her as he rocked his hips. She moaned softly, sitting up enough to kiss him properly.

"Relax," he told her, his pace picking up.

"I thought you wanted-"

"I need some –oh, fuck," he took ahold of her hips before turning them over. "I at least need some semblance of power, Hermione," he told her before sinking into her, his strokes long and deep.

He leaned forward and kissed both of her cheeks before licking down her throat, nipping at her skin as he moved down her body, his pace picking up. She moaned throatily, her hands smoothing down his arms as he sucked one of her nipples into his mouth.

"Tom," she breathed.

"Tell me about it, Hermione," he lifted back up, kissing her once. He pulled out, chuckling at her needy cry before pressing himself back into her. Tom continued with short, hard thrusts, swallowing her moans and groans of desire.

"I can't hear you," he teased, letting go of her hip. His fingers found her clit, and he rubbed circles into her sensitive flesh.

Hermione's fingers found their way into his hair, gripping and tugging at it just before she wrapped them around his neck.

His gasp of shock –as though he'd forgotten what he'd asked of her- was only covered up by the sounds of their combined desire, the fingers that had been bringing her to orgasm suddenly slipping briefly into her cunt, stretching her distractingly.

His mouth found hers, and he murmured, "I love you," between kisses.

She applied more pressure, careful to hit the right points of his neck, well aware of the fact that she only had one chance to get it right. His eyes opened at the last minute, wide and confused as they took her in. Hermione swore they remained like that for hours before he finally collapsed over her, his body deadweight atop over.

She struggled to get out from under him, unable to even look once she'd gotten off of the bed. Instead, she grabbed her phone and some clothes off the floor, and fled.

# # #

 **HR:** Leon for lunch?

 **AM:** Mind if I bring Nissim?

 **HR:** Course not. x

 **AM:** Be there in 30

# # #

Hermione smiled, watching Nissim as he shoveled quinoa into his mouth. "You want another bowl?"

"No," Abraxas said almost instantly. "He eats this shit at home. Have some fries, Nis," he pushed his cup of fries over, rubbing his face tiredly. "I need to tell you something, Granger. And, I _really_ need you to promise not to think less of me."

She almost laughed. "Anything, Abraxas. You know that I'm here for you. I'm safe."

"Magdalene's pregnant again."

Hermione reached over for his hand. "What's the plan?" He'd told her before that if they had another child, he'd have to leave. She respected and supported the decision.

"Few more months here. Magda wants to have the baby here."

"How many months along is she?"

"Two. We found out a few days ago, but she's been saying it for weeks. I didn't…I didn't _want_ to believe her."

"How come?"

"Honestly? It's stupid, really. But Tom's been my friend since we were children. I didn't want to just leave."

She rubbed at her face with her free hand, glancing at Nissim to see that he was working on some coloring. "6 months," she murmured, feeling his hand tighten around hers. "I'll be 6 months pregnant in two weeks."

His eyes widened, as Nissim stood up in his seat. "We're having a baby!" He announced. Abraxas stopped him from climbing over the table as they laughed at his excitement, his little fists pumping in the air. "I'm so tired being the baby."

"We should go to the park," she grabbed her purse off the seat next to her as Abraxas cleared the table.

"Are you really having a baby, Aunt Hermione?" Nissim asked, lifting his arms to be picked up.

"Yeah. I'm having two."

As Nissim rubbed her stomach fondly, Abraxas swore. "Girls?"

"A boy and a girl, actually."

"I'm so happy," Nissim told her, his arms squeezing her neck.

"Yeah. Chill, Nis. You're going to suffocate the babies."

He pulled away worriedly, reaching for his father and raving about babies until they got to the car, where he quickly fell asleep.

"How do you feel about it, Hermione?"

"I don't know."

"Well-"

She unzipped her jacket and pulled her sweater up. "Not too much happening right now, but," she rubbed the rounded mound, poking at her belly button.

"Magda thought you were pregnant, because of all the weird clothes you've been wearing, but I _swore_ you weren't, Hermione."

"Please don't tell me you're unhappy with me."

He sighed. "Of course not. I'm happy for you. I'm scared as hell, but I'm happy for you. How is Riddle taking it?"

"He's obsessed. He can't believe he's going to have a daughter. Nervous as hell, too."

"Has he said anything about Bellatrix?"

"Do you really think she'd try to kill me?" She asked, pulling her sweater back down.

"No doubt, Granger. She isn't right in the head. You want to talk _obsessed_. Bella's picture is in the fucking dictionary."

She laughed, running her fingers through her hair as she sighed. "Don't…don't tell anyone. We've been setting up for our deaths since we found out it was twins."

Abraxas hummed. "I never thought Riddle would give it up."

"You know, I don't doubt that he could walk away. He'll just find some other way to play god. But, I…I'm really not sure about _me_ , Brax. I haven't killed anyone in over a month and my hands are aching for it.

"I've seriously been plotting Tom's actual death."

He laughed.

"I tried to kill him today."

"Holy shit."

They didn't speak until they got to the park, Hermione encouraging Nissim to go play as they sat down on a bench.

"Why?"

"I don't know. I just…it all just hit me, you know? And I was scared and alone, and he was just asleep. Calm and peaceful. I think what _really_ set me over was the fact that I realized –I was brushing my fucking teeth, Abraxas, and it just hit me, like I forgot to buy eggs or something; I just _realized_ that all this time, it's been me that's completely fucked up.

"Tom likes to play god. He likes to hear people beg for their life. But, he's kind. His work is clean and smooth and when they're dead, they're dead.

"It only changes if he's trying to entertain me. _Me._ And, I like the power. I like the pain. I live for those last few moments just before death hits them. And it's disgusting, really, that he's the one that's humane, because I always thought that I was the better one, between the two of us-"

"You are."

"No, I'm not! I…he likes death. It's plain, it's simple. To the point, you know? _I_ like _taking_ life. It's sick and twisted and that's not me. I…didn't want to believe that that was me. I blamed him. I grabbed my knife and I…

"I couldn't even kill him, though, Brax. I just…I just knocked him out. He should have woken up by now. I just…I don't know. I don't fucking know. He mentioned the babies and I got distracted. And then he'd asked if I'd choke him and I _knew_ I could do it, you know? Of course, though, _of course,_ he goes and says 'go slow.' Go slow! We've been fucking for how long now, and we've never…we've _never_ done anything so fucking gentle in our _lives_. I actually thought I was going to die.

"But, I _had_ him, Abraxas. I had my hands around his throat and- and I know how to kill someone that way. I like how personal and powerful it is to actually _take_ someone's life, you know? But…it's like, he looked at me, and I heard him say I love you a thousand times, at least. And I've said it maybe four times since we've been together. So, the fact that he cares enough to remind me that he loves _me_ , out of the billions of people he could have found worthwhile in this world, is just…

"I saw it. In his eyes. He knew what I was doing, he could have stopped me –he's so much stronger, so much bigger-, but he didn't even _try_ to. He just trusted me, and loved me, and…he named our children, Abraxas.

"I…I don't know. I couldn't do it. With his life in my hands I realized that I couldn't live without him. And now I don't know what to do. Because this was my job, Brax. My fucking job was to kill him and I can't do it. They're going to kill me now. Me, and my babies, and him, too. And I caused that. I did this to myself."

Abraxas pulled her into a hug, kissing her forehead as they sat on the park bench. She didn't have any more tears left, but she did sob against him, watching Nissim laugh with a smaller boy. He rubbed her back soothingly, whispering words of comfort until she sat up.

"Who are you working for?"

"Who do you think, Malfoy? Dumbledore. I'm working for Albus Dumbledore."

He nodded. "I've been thinking about leaving. Specially with this new baby on the way, I just," he shook his head. "I can't do it anymore, you know? I can't hide it from Tom. I live in constant fear that one of them will see me at the park and ruin my entire life."

"I wish our kids could grow up together," she told him.

"Me, too, Hermione."

"They could."

Hermione screamed, but managed to stop Abraxas from pulling his gun. They both turned to find Tom standing behind them, watching Nissim run full speed toward them.

"How'd you find us?" She asked.

"The lost phone app."

He only looked away Abraxas when the boy threw himself into Hermione, his small arms wrapping around her possessively. As she and his father sat in absolute fear, he peaked around her hair to smile.

"Hi Uncle Tommy."

Hermione closed her eyes, having never realized that Abraxas' children even knew who Tom was.

"What's up, little man?" From the sound of his voice, it seemed that he was shocked, too. "Would you mind playing for a few more minutes? So your father, Hermione, and I could talk."

He looked skeptical before deciding it was all right to climb off her lap, rejoining the little boy he'd been playing with.

Tom sat down next to Hermione, slouching tiredly against the bench. She chose not to look at him again. She'd seen the purple splotches her hands had left on his neck. Beside her, Abraxas still had his hand in his coat.

"He looks like Magda," Tom commented. "How come you never told me?"

"It never came up."

Tom hummed, arm drawing around her shoulders. "I would have let you walk away, you know?"

"Could I now?" Abraxas asked, looking over at his friend.

Tom kissed her temple. "Where would you go, Malfoy?"

"Probably Jamaica. I've always wanted to live in Jamaica."

"You'd fucking roast in Jamaica, mate," Tom laughed, his voice light and friendly. She closed her eyes, a small smile on her lips.

"I guess Canada is nice, too."

"I could see us in Canada," Tom mumbled.

Both she and Abraxas turned toward him, uncertain that they were dealing with Tom Riddle.

"You both just said you wished your kids could grow up together. We could all fucking move to Canada. I don't know about you, Abraxas, but I'd feel safer knowing _someone_ in a foreign country has my back. We're leaving a risky business. There is no telling what could happen if we went off the map."

"You're right," Hermione murmured.

"We would leave _everything_ behind, Riddle?"

"Yes," they answered at the same time. Tom laughed. "It's what Hermione wants. And I'm having a daughter, Brax. I can't…I can't continue like this."

"Yeah. I know what you mean."

At length, Hermione asked, "So, it's settled then?"

"Yeah." Abraxas grinned at her, tugging a hand through his hair.

"Great. I'll organize."

"Right," Abraxas got up. "I should get him home."

Hermione and Tom continued to sit at the park after he left, watching children play.

As the sun began to set, he asked, "Why'd you try to kill me?"

"Why'd you let me?"

He sighed. "I don't know."

She turned away form him, pulling her arm around her waist as she laid against his chest. "Can I tell you something? It's really important, Tom. I-"

He drew his fingers up her thigh, slipping under her jacket and sweater.

"We have to do something before we leave."

"Anything you want."

"We have to kill Dumbledore."

Tom sighed, kissing her neck. "No time like the present, my love."

XXI / _**4 January 2015, continued**_

"He's _what?_ " She asked, glass crunching beneath her boots as she crossed from the kitchen, back into the living room.

Hermione ignored her, reaching for another handful of chocolate chips. "Bella, I'm not sure what I should do. I'm…my husband is dead."

Bellatrix sat down next to her, hands slack at her side and shoulders slumped in disbelief. "How did he die?"

"I've just been sitting here for days, trying to figure out where to go from here. I mean, I'm _here_ of all places. Instead of at our home."

"Granger! How. Did. He. Die?"

Hermione swallowed, pulling at her curls and tossing them over the back of the couch. She rubbed at her stomach, realizing that there was no longer anyway to hide her bump. Beside her, Bellatrix paid enough attention to notice it as well. "I'm pregnant, Belle. My husband's dead, I'm pregnant, and my only friends are assassins."

She reached over, hand resting over Hermione's far too gently. "You're carrying Tom's child."

"Mine, too. Only mine, now, since he's dead."

Instantly, Bellatrix's hand lifted. She turned toward her, knee pressing into her thigh softly. For a second time, she rested her hand on top of Hermione's briefly before confidently moving under her sweater, a quiet, almost pathetic cry forming in her throat.

She closed her eyes; Tom's laugh echoing in her head.

"Happy New Year, Bella," she murmured, pulling the other woman into a hug. For some reason, she kissed her forehead, the way Tom always did when he wanted one of them to calm down.

Bellatrix gasped, pulling away. She seemed paler then she'd been before. "Granger," she whined.

Hermione watched as the other woman's chest rose and fell with anticipation, thumbing her wedding ring. Smiling softly, she touched Bellatrix's face, feeling absolutely nothing as her eyes vulnerably fell closed.

"How did he die? Please." Something glistened near her thigh, hidden from Bellatrix by her curtain of thick, dark curls. But Hermione had known that this was coming. She'd wondered what the other woman would do, knowing that she was carrying Tom's child, but didn't think that it really mattered.

Briefly, her eyes lifted to were Tom stood on the balcony. Having already noticed the glass shard at her side, he had his gun aimed at Bellatrix. Looking back at the other woman, she smiled, lifting a hand and brushing her hair away from her face.

"Well. I killed him, of course."

XXII / _**8 January 2015**_

"We're receiving confirmation that the bodies belong to Tom and Hermione Riddle."

Lestrange choked on his water as Abraxas reached for the remote, turning the television up as the showed a picture of the couple on their wedding day. "Shut the fuck up," Lestrange murmured, unable to comprehend what the anchor was saying.

"-daughter of the late Doctors James and Gemma Granger, who were found in their home in the Boltons of Chelsea in December 2013. Police are uncertain if the events are connected, though keeping it within the realm of possibilities. At the moment, all we know is that the couple had been working on a project with the late Doctor Albus Dumbledore, famed physicist here in England and abroad, who was found dead in his home in Holyhead, Wales earlier this week.

"The couple appeared to have purchased last minute tickets to Switzerland on Boxing Day, with what seemed to be plans for a New Year's holiday, but never checked in to their flight."

"Malfoy," Lestrange murmured, turning around to glance at the bedroom behind them. "Bellatrix heard from them _yesterday_."

"This has been on the news for a week, Atticus. There is no possible way she heard from them."

"I _saw_ the text message, Brax. She sent a photo and everything. What the fuck are they doing? Why would they fake their death?"

The blond tugged a hand through his hair. "They were both in the photo?"

"No. Just Tom. Grange sent it."

Abraxas blinked, instantly knowing what photo his friend was talking about. "He was drinking hot chocolate? In a puffer vest? Ski goggles on his head?"

"Yeah…how-"

"Because Bella fucking took that photo when he took her to the Alps for her birthday, Lestrange. _God,_ if you were on _Facebook_ you'd know these things."

Lestrange fell silent, his face paling considerably. "She fucking killed Hermione," he murmured in disbelief. And then, more surely, though still relatively confused, he repeated, "She fucking killed Hermione."

"And as we wrap up tonight's broadcast, a new report has just come in, informing us that –Oh," the female newscast blinked, dropping her pen on the desktop. "Oh, god."

"Informing us that Mrs. Hermione Riddle was about six months pregnant with twins," the other anchor cut in surely. "Police are urging anyone with any information on this tragedy to come forward.

"To follow this story, log onto our website, and tune in again at 11 this evening for any updates. Thank you for watching, I'm Dennis Creevey."

"And I'm Ginny Potter. Good evening."

Lestrange fumbled with the remote before turning the television off, swallowing loudly in the sudden silence of the room. "She was pregnant," he let his head fall back on the chair. "Did you know?"

He picked as a sore on his hand, hesitant to say anything. At length, he said, "Yeah. She told me before she left. We had lunch at Leon."

Bellatrix hurried out of the bedroom, walking over to the kitchen and filling up the electric teakettle. "We're supposed to meet Greengrass in an hour," she reminded them as she headed back to the room to get dressed.

"What are we going to do?" Lestrange asked quietly.

"She doesn't deserve any kindness, Atticus. You can't fuck this up because you two shag-"

"Are you fucking kidding me? For all we know, she killed Tom, too. She killed their _children_ , probably knowingly, considering all of the information we've gotten about the gruesome state of their bodies. I _knew_ this would happen. I fucking warned him: if you're marrying Grange, get out of the country. Leave this shit behind. Because Bella won't accept it, especially not a child. She wouldn't fucking understand. I fucking," he kicked the table, breaking one of the wooden legs before getting up. "I liked her, you know? Fuck, Abraxas. What are we going to do?"

Abraxas stood up. "We're going to kill her, and then we're going to get the fuck out of dodge."

* * *

 **A/N:** I may post an epilogue, but I haven't decided yet. Anyhow, thank you so much for reading! Hopefully you enjoyed this fic (:  
See you all again soon.


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